Devil's Lair
by a mountain of gideon's scones
Summary: ClaireOliver. When Oliver wants to take over Morganville, he doesn't do it by force. No, this time, he weasels his way in...through Claire. The site's first Claire/Oliver story. Penultimate chapter. /graphic thanks to Flying Penguinz.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: **

**Welcome to chapter 1 of my dark and twisted fic... Yes, you read correctly, Oliver and Claire. Hello, that's why it's 'dark and twisted'! **

**Now, this first chapter is just sorta setting the scene & stuff... But expect my weird mind to bringing up some pretty weird things! **

***this idea was sort of spurred on by my writing of chapter 45 for Struggles With What's Right and What I Want… but it's NOTHING to do with that!**

**I don't own anything!**

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_Claire's POV:_

What am I doing, walking into the devil's lair, so to speak? What am I doing even being _in_ Common Grounds, after we found out what Oliver is? Why am I risking my life to do something so stupid?

Because Eve got me addicted to mocha.

That is the only reason, the stupid _trivial_ reason why I am going into a coffee shop owned by a vampire, that seems to be _the_ place to be for vampires trying to grab themselves a snack. They go for the ones without Protection; the ones who don't have a vampire who would probably get _very_ angry if another vampire killed their Protectee… without their permission or whatever. That is the dangerous side of Morganville… not that vampires already aren't dangerous.

Yes, I said vampires. Unfortunately, I am not in Bellevue, I am deathly serious. In Morganville, you have to be… regarding the vampires at least. If you do _one_ thing stupid, you could probably end up dead. Sorry, scratch that… you _will_ end up dead.

Oliver appears to be _the_ baddest vampire in town; Amelie may be the strongest and the ruler, but she seems to (I have only seen her the once) be lacking his ruthless streak that makes him so damned dangerous. She doesn't seem to have the strength or whatever to do what he did and fight us constantly until sunrise to try and get something that he didn't get. That's what makes coming in Common Grounds so dangerous. He could kill me for the way that I gave the book to Amelie, and none of the vampires in here would raise an eyebrow. In fact, they would probably be egging him on to kill me, so that they could get some of my blood.

I walk slowly into the coffee shop and take a deep breath as I realise that it is entirely empty. I mean, entirely. There is the barista at the counter and that is it… it is probably because it's after the lunchtime rush but before the end of classes so that the majority of the college students aren't in here yet.

As soon as I enter, I worry about my thoughts. It seems that something is trying to get inside of them, to make me think differently. I try to resist, until I don't think about it anymore. I don't register anything about the issue that occurred as soon as I entered Common Grounds

"A mocha, please," I say to the barista who smiles at me. She moves quickly to get the coffee and I realise that, with the paleness of her skin and the sparkle in her eye, that she is a vampire. Great. Is there a day when I _don't_ have the pleasure of seeing a vampire? No, there isn't. this is Morganville; not seeing a vampire is like a priest not giving a sermon at the church –it isn't possible! Or at least it is _extremely_ unlikely; unless they all managed to get some disease that could kill them all… now _that _would be pretty damned awesome!

"That's three fifty," the vampire cashier says with a smile, one that nearly pulls me in. she tries to do what Brandon did, and get me under her spell but it doesn't work. I managed to resist and she smiles again, before letting go of the attempted mind control thing. At least it wasn't Brandon; not only is he a complete prick and whatever, I am dating Shane and for him (Brandon) to try and take advantage of me now would now be cheating. Not that I _would_ cheat or anything – I think I'm falling slightly in love with him already.

"Keep the change," I say to her, as I hand over four dollars. She shakes her head and looks towards the office door, behind which I presume the loser Oliver is, and hands me the fifty-cent coin. I smile back at her as she hands me a Styrofoam cup full of mocha. I inhale the sweet scent and smell something different in it… something extra. Oh, maybe the vampire cashier added some cinnamon or something – I mean, it's not like the place is overflowing with customers; she could probably get away with it as well, what with her being a vampire. After all, I guess she is only doing it because Eve quit as soon as she found out Oliver is a vampire – she is probably the only one who is willing to do _anything_ for cash.

"Claire, can you come in here, please?" a silky smooth voice comes around the slightly ajar office door. There is something in my head that tells me, _don't do it! It's not safe_! But I ignore it; I mean, what can go wrong? It's only a man behind the door… he won't hurt me, not in a café!

So I walk towards the office door, smiling at the cashier/barista who smiles back at me with an apparently genuine smile. With a slightly shaking hand, I push the door open and reveal a sight of chaos.

There is a desk overflowing with paperwork, boxes of coffee lining the floors. The walls are covered in numbers and post-it notes and the far back wall has a map of Morganville on it, parts coloured one colour, parts another, some entirely blank.

In the middle of the room, is a hippie vampire, a man with long grey hair and wearing a tie-dye t-shirt. He turns around as he sees me entering the room and smiles at me, the motion instantly making my knees nearly collapse. He zooms over and manages to catch me before I fall, leaning me backwards as he catches me. My heart rate increases, as does my breathing speed, but it isn't because of fear… I don't know what it is.

"Claire," Oliver says my name softly, his voice sounding full of emotion. I don't know what it is, but as I take a sip of my coffee to revive myself, so that I can get out of his hands, off his knee, my head goes a little giddy. He lifts me up with him and I fall forwards into him, my head leaning against his chest.

With one finger, he lifts my chin up and stares into my eyes, an unreadable emotion in his eyes.

"Claire," he once again repeats his name with a small smile and I smile back, a reflex response. He smiles at me, now I have done this, and he then reacts in a way that I never thought possible.

He leans down and kisses my cheek softly, something erupting in my chest as he does. I drop the mocha on the floor, the coffee splashing up and covering both of our legs in brown liquid but I don't care and I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling myself closer to him.

His lips move from my cheek to my lips and they press softly against mine, making my head spin as part of me screams to get out.

_He's a vampire… he's only after one thing! Your blood… he wants your blood!_

But I ignore this small voice of reason in my mind as his lips press against mine, his lips firm and strong against my weak and fleshy and human ones.

I find it hard to breathe as the kiss extends itself to last too long, so he removes himself from my lips and simply makes his way down my face, leaving kiss after kiss. He ends up at my neck, his lips kissing the point where I know my pulse is at its strongest, but I don't care. I almost _want_ him to bite me… what's wrong with me?

He kisses the point again and again and I swoon as he does it.

_A vampire is kissing me and I don't care_. That's sort of what worries me, the little bit in my mind at least. The rest of me doesn't care; the rest of me has forgotten Shane and is putting everything into this kissing with the bad vampire, the one that would have killed me in a heartbeat only days ago.

I feel his fangs slide down and press tiny dimples into my skin as they do so. They are cold… like his hands are, I guess. I only just noticed that he isn't the same temperature as Shane… but I prefer this temperature.

I shut my eyes as I wait for his fangs to pierce my skin, to start drinking my blood.

_As long as he doesn't kill me_.

I wait for him to do it and finally, he does. As he does, I feel a release of pressure almost… as if this is what I have been waiting for.

I let out a small gasp as I feel the blood leaving my body slowly… mmmm….

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**So, what did you think?**

**Yes, yes, weird… I KNOW! I wrote it, I came up with the idea! However, the whole twisted thing will be coming out soon, if I carry it on.**

**If you want to read more, please review and tell me…**

**…or just review!**

**Vicky xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

**WHEW! Overwhelming response last chapter! 11 reviews? In the opening night? Sheesh, I'd love that response on EVERY story, so thanks for them!**

***time frame* this fic is set after Glass Houses but before Dead Girl's Dance.**

**Just going to reply to 'ew' here, as it was annoymous. Tbh, I agree with you - it is rather disgusting, at the minute; then again, you haven't seen what I know should be coming en el futuro to know why that wasn't what it was :P**

**On with the chappy!**

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_Claire's POV:_

Oh my god. WHAT have I been doing? Why is my head fuzzier than I don't know what and absolutely _kills _when I touch it?

My hand moves gingerly down from my head (the pain was exacerbated by Eve's yelling for me to get up... Says the girl who was going back to bed) to my neck and stops in horror.

_Why _have I got fang marks in my neck?

I move across the room to the mirror in horror, forgetting the aches and pains in my head as I crane my head to get a better look at them. The holes in my neck... Some vampire has bitten me! But why don't I remember? Oh god, I don't remember _anything _since about 2pm yesterday... It's 6am now. That's 16 hours which have gone by in a flash - whatever happened, it cannot have been good if it ended (or started) with a vampire biting my neck. Just frickin' great; exactly what we need, isn't it? That I've been bitten by a vampire _and I don't remember_!

I move to cover the wound with my hand, wincing as the raised and angry skin protests as I do so, leaving my finger sticky from touching the healing bite. The pain of this, in conjunction with the searing agony returning in my head, drives me nearly insane.

A cold wind breezes over me and I realise that Michael is in the room. Shit... He's seen the fact that my neck contains fang bites.

"Jeez, Michael, give me some privacy in my own room!" I whisper, trying to laugh but a stabbing pain in my head stopping me mid-attempt. "If I don't feel you leave in less than three seconds, I'll tell Eve you're a pervert and I'm sure she'll dump you instantly. Swirl over me now if you understand," I hiss, force behind my tone even though it's quiet. I feel him cross me once, even as a spirit managing to say 'we'll talk later', before disappearing entirely.

Now the room is my own again, I flop backwards onto the bed, panting as I try to ignore the stabbing pain in my head. For many a minute, I lie on my bed and breathe in and out but it doesn't get any better, so I decide that I should get dressed.

I decide not to bother with a shower; I'm late for school and having a shower will just take too much of the time in which I could be eating or drinking coffee. Hey, here's a thought: I could use the time to walk to school so I'm not late _again_.

Slowly, I walk over to the other side of the room where my wardrobe is, feeling as if the three or so metres are a wide chasm I have to leap across otherwise I'd fall into a pit of molten lava. Oh wait, the lava is already in my neck and head; maybe I'm jumping across the vampire that did this to me, the one who has made me feel so weak and empty.

Once at my wardrobe, I search through it for the jumper I have that covers my neck; Michael may know but he's not here yet and I cannot be bothered with Shane or Eve going off about the bite. Firstly because it's hard enough for me to wrap my head around and secondly because I cannot deal with their yelling and overly used use of an exclamation mark. I decide up on a pair of blue jeans, the rolled neck jumper I brought with me (who cares if it's summer... I'll just blame a cold or something) and a simple pair of trainers so if this vampire comes after me again, I can outrun them. This idea works in theory, or at least in my head, but I doubt it will in real life. The only way I would have a chance of outrunning a vampire is if it was the middle of the day, they were covered in silver chains and I was faster than Usain Bolt.

Once dressed, I simply walk downstairs without even brushing my hair; I tied it back without having to prevent myself from screaming which I know I would have done if I had have tried to brush it. My rucksack is at the bottom of the stairs and I wonder if I can guilt sucker Eve or Shane into giving me a lift to uni because, to be honest, walking in this state is just going to kill me. With all the ways I _could _die in this town, exhaustion or traffic are the _seriously _mediocre choices!

"Finally, sleepyhead, you're up!" Eve says with a yawn from behind the kitchen door. Her voice gives me a fright even bigger than when I found out there was vampires in this town, and I involuntarily jump. This motion causes me to wince as the movement agonises my head even more. My hand instantly raises to my throat but I pass it off as a movement of fright, dropping it down to my heart after a fraction of a second.

"Jeez, Eve, you frightened me _more _than half to death; something even living in Morganville hasn't managed to do yet!" I exclaim as she appears in my line of sight, a wide grin on her face. That's already the worrying thing; since when does Eve EVER smile like that this early in the morning?

"Oh come off it, Claire, I'm not that scary!" she says in a cheerful tone, pouring us both coffee. I slide into one of the stools we use for breakfast and lower my head to roll the bottle of milk along my forehead. It soothes it slightly but I know that it either won't last or that I can't take a bottle of milk (which will eventually get warm) into class with me. "Anyway, drink up because we both have big days ahead of us: you, doing whatever genius' do and me... Working at the coffee house on campus!" she does a little dance but the only excited motion I can muster up is a half hearted smile.

"That's great, Eve," I say quietly and she looks disenheartened.

"You could sound a little more excited," she grumbles before turning to face me, my coffee (complete with a tonne of milk) in her hand. "Here you- holy crap! What the hell is wrong with you?" she begins before changing sentence mid way when she looks at me. Her loud voice doesn't change volume or pitch as she says the last bit; in fact, it seems to antagonise my head further! I point to my head without looking away from the coffee pot.

"Headache," I mumble before hearing her moving. Why Eve finds it necessary to wear high heeled shoes in the house ('clack clack' is all you hear), I don't know, but right now I wish she wouldn't!

"Oh right... Sorry," she whispers as she opens cupboard doors and closes them quietly. Finally, I hear her popping out pills before tiptoeing over to me to place them in your hand. "That'll sort it out... As long as it's not a hangover... _Not _that you should have a hangover at your age," she says, sounding stern by the end.

I lift my head up and down the pills with a little coffee before setting it down on the side with a small thud. Fifteen minutes I wait until they begin to kick in... I hope that when this goes I can remember something, otherwise Michael is just going to yell even more because I don't know who did it or what happened.

OoOoOo

"The working girl and the genius have arrived home," Eve yells, forgetting that my head is still tender. The pills this morning may have helped a little but the constant babbling of other students throughout the day has just exacerbated and elongated the problem. The wound on my neck has been killing as well, throbbing every single second. I considered going to Common Grounds for a coffee at lunch (as it's sooo much cheaper than the UC) but I didn't. I went yesterday; I remember walking into the coffee shop, but nothing further. Yet I doubt Oliver would have bitten me - the café will have been full of people and there is _no _way in hell I'd have gone back into his office!

"Working girl?" Shane's voice suddenly calls out of the kitchen, his head popping around the door. "Jeez, Eve, get out of here! We don't want a prostitute littering our doorstep... Although you're certainly dressed for the job!"

Eve removes one of her shoes and lobs it in his direction before racing after him. The door slams shut and leaves me alone in a house where I know Michael is... Somewhere. I walk slowly forwards into the living room and make my way up the stairs, almost comatose.

As soon as I reach the top of the stairs, a strong arm yanks me towards the area of wall where I know the secret room is. I stifle a scream - natural reaction when startled in Morganville - as I see the blonde hair of Michael in front of me as I am dragged up the stairs. Once we're at the top, Michael locks the door and I know that I can't escape until he decides my answers are good enough.

"So, let's start with the most obvious question," Michael says in a tone barely concealing his anger. "Who bit you?"

I move from my position at the top of the stais to sit down next to him on the sofa. All the while, I think desperately for an answer, always coming back to the same one.

"I don't know," I answer honestly, his eyes flipping over my face in confusion and anger.

"You don't know which vampire bit you?" he asks, increduled. I nod very slowly and he laughs a laugh that matches his tone. "Bloody hell, Claire, that's ridiculous! What the hell happened before that?"

"Michael... I don't know, I can't remember," I say, my lower lip quaking slightly as I digest what I'm saying. "The last thing I remember is walking into Common Grounds about 2pm. I don't remember even walking into the café... Everything is gone. I woke up this morning and lost sixteen hours, but had a ridiculous headache that felt like knives were being thrust into my head and bite marks in my neck. I'm so confused and I don't know what to do..." I break down into tears but Michael doesn't move. Rather, he doesn't move at first... Suddenly he moves forwards and hugs me, allowing me to press my face into his shoulder. I wrap my arms around his back and cry my heart out.

"Sshhh... Claire, you'll get to the bottom of it," he whispers as he clutches me close. "It's going to be ok, I mean you're fine, aren't you? You haven't died. If you want, I can speak to Amelie and see if she knows anything," he continues and I shake my head.

"Don't... I'll try and get some information and stuff," I mumble through my tears. "I'll go... I'll go see Oliver," I whisper, knowing that this can be the only place that any information could be found. I don't want to go to Amelie, so Oliver is the only person left to ask.

"If that's what you think," he replies, something in his voice that I can't identify.

I nod and cry even more into Michael's shoulder. Having him close to me makes me feel as if my neck is pretty ok, as if there isn't a wound there. He hugs me back and soothes me until the tears run dry.

I don't know what's going on or anything. Yet I need to find out... Otherwise how am I going to manage to move on?

_Oliver's POV:_

Ahhh, my masterplan has been set in action. Kissing her seemed to be the icing on the cake to the other manipulative things I have begun to make Claire fall for me. The things I have done to make sure that she will do _everything _that I say seem to be workng as well.

I turn my attention to the corner, where my map of Morganville is. Approximately 1/5 of it is currently under my control, 3/5 definitely under Amelie's and the remaining areas 'neutral'... But not for long. Claire will be helping me take over Morganville, but she won't know that. She won't know what she is doing or remember when I instruct her to forget. She won't be able to convey any information to anyone... Ever since I bit her and she responded to that, she has been mine and only my compulsion can work on her.

Hmmm... What should I have her do first? Well, Brandon is getting rather irritable to have around; he's always trying to infringe on my customers and my blood.

I'll arrange her to have him killed. Maybe I'll even watch. It could be rather amusing.

Ahhh, all this power. All from a kiss; who knew it could be so powerful?

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**So, what did you think?**

**I had a maths exam today, and spent like 40 mins of the hour thinking up how this story is going to progress (I finished it early!) so I now have an entire plan of how it's going on!**

**Please review... You know you want to! 11 reviews... Let's beat it!**

**Vicky xx**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

**New chapter for you, guys, because you're amazing!**

**& Nexie, I AM from England :P The Morganville Vampires books made it over here only a couple of months after it was released in the States: we're not backwards, you know! Given that you got our _amazing_ Harry Potter series pretty soon after it was published here (the first before I was even born :P) **

**I don't own anything!**

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_Claire's POV:_

I need to go and see Oliver. No matter _how _little I want to do it, I know I don't have an option not to. I lost my memories in Common Grounds and Common Grounds is the only place where they could be found. Perhaps I banged my head and then a vampire bit me... I don't know. But Oliver is the only one who could possibly hold the key to unlocking these puzzle pieces for me - or at least partially doing that so I can complete it.

But when do I go? It's nighttime now, so I can't go now. I have school tomorrow... Unless I skip physics - it's not like I exactly have to attend the lessons to get my grade and above. I'm sure I could go then, have an extended lunch in which to ask Oliver, and then get back in time for chemistry lab.

"Michael, don't tell either of them about this," I remind him as he presses the button to release the secret room door.

"What do you take me for, Claire?" he asks, rolling his eyes. "I think, what with Shane's dad being back, they have enough to deal with without you chucking into the mix the fact that a vampire bit you and you don't remember."

"Jeez, Michael, no need to be quite so snappy," I say, calling on the retaliation training Eve has been giving me.

"Eve's been training you," he notes with a laugh, anger forgotten. Then he gets serious again. "Look, Claire, be careful. Evidently there's something out there that you don't know and you need to find out before you actually become dinner, rather than just a snack."

I nod before walking down the stairs and across to my room. Michael slips downstairs to be with Eve but as I begin to walk into my room, I sense that someone is in there, waiting for me.

It could be the vampire.

Oh god, I could die right now and none of them would know. My boyfriend would come and find my dead body, drained of blood, and have lost me. Michael would regret shouting at me whilst Eve would punish herself for borrowing my bag of stakes last week to finish her 'pretty pattern of stakes' in her room.

I back out of the room and into the hallway, where I stumble over the long umbrella that just hangs around there because nobody knows where to put it. With the pointy bit pointing towards the intruder/unknown person in my room, I creep back in, pushing the door open. Instantly, I turn the light on and get the shock of my life when I see... Shane. It's only Shane. My boyfriend, sitting on my bed with a puzzled look on his face.

"Shane, this is _Morganville_, you don't sneak into a room without turning the light on," I say, breathing heavily. His brow arches slightly as he notes my hastily chosen weapon, so I set it down on the floor with a soft 'thud'. I blush slightly before making sure with a surreptitious look in the mirror that the bite is entirely covered.

"Who were you expecting?" he asks, his voice slightly hardened.

"I wasn't expecting anyone," I say easily, moving over to sit by him on the bed. He takes one of my hands and begins to play with my fingers, concentrating on them abstractly, rather than me. "That's sort of why I had such a crude weapon in hand!"

"I was wondering why the umbrella was out, I thought perhaps it was raining in the hallway," Shane says with an easy laugh. I look up at his expression and see that it turns more serious. "Look, Claire, you know about my dad... Well he's definitely back and he's sticking around for a while. He asked me to join him but I refused... But I think he's going to go after the vampires; I _know _he's going to go after the vampires. So we need to stay as far away from him as possible, so that we're not caught up in it. Ok?" he explains, confusing me slightly with the speed he goes at. So his dad wants Shane to join him and kill the vampires, but Shane doesn't want to? Is that what he means?

I repeat this to Shane who nods before grabbing me up in a bear hug. I smile at this until the crushing-ness means that my neck is squidged up against his shoulder and it's screaming at me in agony. I manage to wriggle away in time to hear Eve yelling that dinner is ready, so I have a plasible excuse for why I pulled away. However, Shane's face still looks extremely hurt and doesn't react as he stands up and walks away from me without another word.

I slowly make my own way down the stairs, following the delectable scent of his aftershave, and arrive in the living room/dining room where we have dinner. The other three are already sat around the table but look up and smile at me as I enter; Eve's smile is normal but Shane's is borderline grimace and Michael's looks forced and worried. Once again, I am the cause of unrest in the Glass House household and Shane doesn't even know why - I've hurt him without him understanding.

I sit down at the table and eat a dinner of chicken and pasta. I have a feeling that it would have been delicious, if I could taste it... Yet the continual throbbing, the constant reminder of what happened, of my throat stops this from happening and, as I feel Michael's worried eyes on me, I wonder if there is more to this than I know already...

OoOoOo

I push open the door to Common Grounds and take a deep breath of apprehension before stepping inside. The place is bustling, as usual, and I walk past a vampire I have never seen before at the counter on my way back. On my way... To see Oliver...

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_Michael's POV: (the night before)_

I cannot believe that this is happening to Claire. It's just that it's happened to _Claire_! Eve and Shane... Well I'd understand it slightly more if it were them but not Claire. She doesn't get into scrapes with vampires or cause trouble or anything! That's why I got so angry with her; it was disbelief that this could happen to her. That she could get herself bitten by a vampire _and not remember_. I have to say, I think that Brandon is linked to this. He threatened her when she first came to town and he always follows through on his threats - I couldn't bare it if she was killed and I didn't do anything to save her.

That's why I'm doing this. I'm doing this with Amelie, making a deal or something, to find out if she can protect Claire from Brandon or something. I can't do anything because I'm locked into this house... But if anything else happens, I'm considering making the turn into a vampire. It would be pretty horrific, but at least I would be able to protect the ones that I love from danger much more than now. All I can do now is protect them at night when they're in the house - anything more is impossible.

I sneak upstairs into the secret room and wait for Amelie. I rang her earlier from here, so that the others didn't hear, and she agreed to meet with me here. She knows that I cannot attack her or do anything, if not for not truly being around, for Sam. I wouldn't do anything to hurt him - we may not be entirely close, but he's still my Grandpa. Because of my dad, I never really got to know him: I went round for Sunday dinner to his flat every two weeks until I was 16, but then we had an argument about something stupid so I stopped going. Now, I haven't seen him in 2 years given I'm not going to invite a vampire, even my Grandpa, into the house. Not after I let Oliver in... He may be my Grandpa, but I didn't trust any vampire after I 'died'. The only difference between Amelie and any other vampire is that she can get in anyway, so at least she's not being invited.

I slip up the stairs, feeling apprehensive for what I'm going to do. Never before have I felt so powerful but so humane either. I know I am not human anymore: I'm a ghost. Even if my heart beats and warm blood pumps through my veins, I am not truly living. I am exactly what a vampire is: immortal... But with so many more constraints about me and my situation.

I sit down on the sofa and wait for Amelie to turn up: it's 1:58am and she said 2am so she will be here soon.

"Michael," Amelie's cool voice comes from the corner, startling me. I jump up to face her, as I doubt sitting would keep her happy, and she appears to be cool and detached as normal.

"Thank you for coming," I say with a level tone, sitting in one of the chairs in front of the sofa where she sits. "It's about Claire."

"What _possibly _could be so important, Michael, that you deem it prudent to involve me?" she sighs, evidentally not wanting to be here.

"Someone bit her," I say softly, watching as her head shoots up in confusion, this emotion evident in her eyes. For a moment she is animated, but this light slowly fades back to her cold self.

"This is Morganville, Michael, I cannot explain why... You have my deepest apologies and, rest assured, they shall feel my wrath," she begins, shrugging slightly before turning onto my side. She evidentally remembers the informal protection she has offered the others.

"That's the thing: she can't remember," I say and her eyes betray her confusion again. "Apparently, the last thing she remembers is walking into Common Grounds yesterday afternoon then she woke up this morning with a splitting headache and fang marks in her neck."

"I shall put someone on the case most imminently," Amelie says, appearing slightly concerned. She probably has an agenda which Claire is part of and her death would screw up her plans. "Claire is... I have a feeling she will be vitally important in the very near future, if certain things pan out as I assume them to."

"You mean, you know what's going to happen and you've planned something to use Claire?" I translate, my voice hard and cold - like her.

She smiles a rare smile, pointed and rather menacing... Underneath.

"C'est le vérité, (1) Michael," she says in French, confusing me. "You shall understand shortly, I assure you. Your own future is tied very closely to hers, along with your grandfather's and my own. Yes, you shall know soon. But enjoy your night: after all, you don't have any other time," she continues, her voice soft and innocent. However, I know it's an act - she is ruthless and violent and will destroy anything and everything that is in her way.

With that, she walks to the shadows in the corner and disappears into the darkness, leaving me here. She has plans for Claire and me... But what? I ponder this thought for many an hour until daybreak approaches and I prepare for my impending death...

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**So what did you think?**

**Please review: I've had loads of reviews so far on the last 2 chapters and I'd love some more!**

**(1) It's the truth**

**Vicky xx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

**So, I left a TEENY cliffhanger last chapter, about Oliver and Claire... So enjoy this one!**

**Man, I am _too_ gullible and nice to update so fast... so enjoy it!**

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_Claire's POV:_

"Come in, Claire," Oliver's smarmy voice says before I have even opened the door. Trust him to be using his vampire senses to be finding me... Yet I can't exactly be a cow to him, if I want to have any chance of finding out about who bit me and wiped my memory. Michael said something about Amelie but I don't know... After all, would the Founder of this town be bothered about a human problem? I know if I was her, I wouldn't be.

"I need your help," I stupidly say as I enter his office. As my breathing increases, so does my heart rate for being in such close contact with a vampire (and the most dangerous one I've met) and _choosing to be_. It's different with Sam - he seems pretty normal and after he rescued me from the party, he definitely deserves to be treat as normal - and he's Michael's grandfather.

"Claire Danvers wants my help," Oliver repeats, less emotion in his voice than a brick. "Whatever could be so bad that means she cannot go to her new best friend, the Founder, and give her the thing that was _rightfully _mine?" he continues, his face twisting up into something between a grimace and a murderous look.

"If you had the book then you would have destroyed everything, including me," I fight back, raising my eyebrows in a defensive way as I settle into the chair in front of him. "Therefore, I hedged my bets and went for Amelie... Also, the fact that she was in the house sort of changed our opinions as well, as well as the fact that you had killed Michael made me think that you were the bad guy."

"Fine, do you have any other reason for being here, other than to insult me and make me want to kill you?" he asks me, his voice dangerously sharp. I take a deep breath before nodding and looking him straight in the eye.

Without breaking eye contact, I pull the high neckline down on my jumper with shaking hands to reveal the bite mark. His eyes widen slightly, his eyebrows raising, but he doesn't say anything.

"I was bitten," I say, my voice shaking slightly as I release the neckline of my jumper.

"The point of showing me this?" Oliver's voice seems detached as he doesn't release me from his gaze. I can't look away... I'm captivated.

"I don't remember anything..." I say, my voice quavering. "Everything has gone... I only remember walking into the shop here two days ago before waking up yesterday morning with a head that felt as if it attacked by a chainsaw and a throbbing neck. So do you know anything?"

"Even if I know anything, please explain why I would tell you," his placid tone says, instantly dulling any hope in me.

"I'd do anything to know," I rashly say, unable to prevent myself from doing anything to find out who bit me...

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_Oliver's POV:_

Yes! This is exactly what I wanted - she is coming and begging for information. The fact she is begging suggests her already weak mind control and protection (destroyed when I broke her two days ago) has become near non existant... She is mine for the picking.

The fact that she is so under my power now, that I can do almost anything, is imperative for my plan for Morganville and Claire. She can be controlled by me to do everything that I need her to and the fact that she forgot everything proves that I shall be able to plant things in her brain to make her go down the wrong pathway and ultimately end up doing the most henious thing... Killing Amelie.

Then I can claim the spot as ruler of Morganville and Claire, her purpose fulfilled, can be drained by me - a nice snack inbetween destruction and burnings...

"I know what happened," I say, not smiling whatsoever. I stare into her eyes, boring into her brain what I want her to know. "I saw... Brandon biting you. I managed to get him to stop before you died but by then he had already wiped your memory - I cannot alter what someone else has done to you, so I couldn't help you remember... Although I doubt you would particularly want to," I lie fluidly, using my eyes to send forwards a memory of what happened. Brandon stalking her through the shop, following her to the back. It being empty, so no-one knew that she was being bitten... Her screaming and my arrival, the saviour of her, meaning that she didn't die: this is what she needs to believe - that I am the good guy in the situation… this will mean that I can do what I need to, without her instantly distrusting me.

"Then why do I remember now?" she asks hesitantly, her lower lip shaking. For heaven's sake girl, pull yourself together! I don't have time for namby-pambys... They don't get the work done that they need to in order to be part of my plan.

"My awakening of your thoughts has triggered a catalyst, meaning that any memory loss compulsion Brandon put on you has been entirely eradicated," I say without hesitation. She nods slowly, a worried expression on her face. She has everything to be worried about; finally this girl has shown one of the emotions she ought to, if she had a drop of sense about her.

"W-what can I do?" she asks, a tear forming in her eye. Oh Claire, you have made this too easy for me!

I stand up, without breaking the eye contact, and move around to her, noting how her head follows my every movement. With only a touch of strength, I pull her up to face me, her only the size of Amelie. Her scent hits me powerfully, floral and sweet... Intoxicating. I never expected to be drawn into her, to be entirely captivated by her, but I have been. She has drawn me in… and I don't like it. I _must_ reassert my authority, and quickly, for otherwise she could destroy my entire plan without even thinking about it.

With a movement so quick I almost miss it myself, I bend over and press my lips to hers. It isn't a romantic kiss, one with any feelings in it, but a powerful one… one to assert my authority here, one to show that _I_ control her, not the other way around. I don't have any feelings for her; she is simply a puppet, someone easy to control and for me to use to get Morganville. There is nothing more. I don't want her, not in that way.

My lips press to hers and I feel something strange – as I did the first time I used electricity, I get a shock. My hair stands on end slightly and my hand ends up worming its way into her hair, her hands around my back instantly. This isn't right… this isn't controlling enough.

I wrench her head back slightly, pulling back. I am in control; I can stop this kiss whenever I want. But feeling her delicate mouth on mine, feeling the sensation of my tongue in her mouth, makes me nearly feel otherwise. But I _must_ remain in control – I must not loose sight of the fact that she is necessary for my advancing plans. So I pull her head back further, trying to cause her pain, to show that she is _mine_.

However, her expression leaves me stricken. Because of all this mind control and such, she _wants_ me to continue kissing her… she wants me to kiss her… to bite her. But I cannot – if she comes here just to lose more blood, she will know that there is something wrong, and I doubt that Michael would not realise it, if she didn't.

"Wow," she whispers, as I nuzzle her neck, controlling the monster in me that simply aches for her blood. I ignore her before looking up into her eyes, knowing that with the provision of the kiss, she is _entirely _mine.

"You will tell Shane that Brandon bit you," I inform her, my voice rough with the effort I am putting into this… but it may also be from the effort into that kiss. "You will just let it slip out, accidentally showing him the bite marks. You will be scared and have just remembered on your own, you will not mention that you saw me. You came to the café and remembered. Do you understand?"

She nods blankly, mutely, and she continues to stare into my eyes. I hold her expression, noting how her arms seem to stretch around me even more now that she is under my control. It feels strangely nice… I _want_ her to do this.

However, I cannot. I regain my senses and push her away, towards the door.

"Return here tomorrow, Claire," I inform her, my voice sharp. "Remember, do not tell anyone that you were here."

She doesn't say anything, simply walks out of the door and shuts it behind her.

What am I to do?

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	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

**Just reminding you that the kiss wiped Claire's memory of everything :P**

**I got some pretty amazing exam results yesterday (a* in history paper one YAY!) so that's why you deserve this update!**

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_Claire's POV:_

I remember. I remember that Brandon bit me, that Oliver saved me from certain death... I don't know how, but I remember. The only thing I can assume is that entering Common Grounds jogged my memory.

I need to tell Shane what has happened. Even when the bite marks heal, they will scar and he's going to find out sooner or later. I should just tell him now, to get it over with... Michael and I made a mistake in agreeing not to tell him and I need to correct it.

I hesitate as I walk into the Glass House, wondering how to tell Shane. How do I tell him that Brandon bit me and wiped my memory without him going crazy and ending up trying to kill Brandon? That would only end up with his death for the (attempted) murder of a vampire. With his father in town, I'd be worried that Shane would join forces with him and then never come back to me... I couldn't have that. I couldn't survive if he turned into someone who lives on the edge of life, someone who is always hiding from the authorities: something that wouldn't be successful in this town overran with vampires! I couldn't let that happen, not for something I did... If it was my actions that caused that to happen, I'd never forgive myself.

"Babe, where are you?" Shane says as I loiter in the hallway before walking into the living room. He is sprawled out all over the sofa, playing viedo games, but throws the controller down to turn and look at me. He stands up and runs over to give me my usual kiss of greeting but stops in his tracks when he sees the paleness of my face, the way that my body is shaking.

"Claire, what's wrong?" Shane asks me, placing his hands on my shoulders to look into my eyes. It isn't a look of adoration; it is serious, showing the level of care he feels for me.

"I... I have something to tell you, Shane," I confess. "It's bad... It's really bad."

He drags me over to the sofa and sits down, pulling me into the gap between his legs. I lean back into him and he kisses my head softly.

"Claire, what is it?" he repeats. "Honey, it can't be that bad: just tell me!"

With shaking hands, I lift my hand to the scratchy neck of my jumper and pull it down. The sudden exposure of the bite to the cold air makes it hurt even more and I raise my fingers to it to cover it. I turn to face Shane, whose face is frozen in a sea of shock, staring blankly at my neck.

"Claire," Shane says finally, after an extremely long silence. "Claire, what is that?"

"I... I got bitten," I confess quietly, noting how his hand hardens around my shoulder, almost hurting me.

"I can see that - how and why?" he asks me, through gritted teeth. "Who?"

"I didn't remember anything at first... Only just when I went back to Common Grounds did I remember what happened," I stall for time, but his face persuades me that he wants answers _now_. It happened two days ago, now, about 3ish in the afternoon, I think. I... I went to Common Grounds and I had a drink before... Before Brandon dragged me into the corner and started to drain me. I fought, Shane, I really did... But then Oliver saved me," I explain, tears running down my cheeks as I process just what happened. Oliver's name brings a strange recollection to me, as if there is something between us... But there isn't, right? He's a manipulative piece of work who tried to destroy us all and succeeded into making Michael a ghost.

"What?" Eve's shocked voice gasps from behind the sofa. Shit, I never heard her come in. "CB, you were bitten two days ago and you never told me or Shane? What's the matter?"

"I couldn't remember anything: who it was, why, where, when," I whisper, my voice too filled with tears to talk any louder. "I... I didn't see a point in telling you until I knew - I don't know why not though."

Shane moves into action, using his left hand to observe the bite mark with an almost clinical movement. Then he drops his hand and removes himself from me, jumping over the back of the sofa to get away from me. He doesn't want to be near me, the girl who was bitten. He doesn't want to be continually reminded of my stupidity.

With a hurried movement, he grabs his jacket and pulls his shoes on before heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" I cry, sitting up and turning around to look at him.

"I'm going... To find my Dad," he confesses before running out the door faster than I thought possible.

As soon as he is gone, the tears flow thicker and faster, until it's more like hysteria than crying. After an original hesitation, Eve moves over to comfort me and I feel Michael's cool presence almost telling me that everything is going to be ok.

But it's _not _going to be ok: Shane's gone to be with his father.

The one that murders vampires...

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_Oliver's POV:_

I don't know. I don't know what I should be feeling right now… but I know one thing.

I shouldn't be thinking that I am falling in love with her.

For crying out loud, she is the thing I am _using_! She isn't supposed to have a memory of everything that I do to her… she is just supposed to be my puppet that I can manipulate so that I can get what I want: control of Morganville, without having to kill Amelie for it. Well, rather, I wouldn't have to kill Amelie _myself_… that is what Claire is supposed to be for.

When she isn't here, it is much easier to stick to this plan. I can think straight, without being distracted by her scent, the alluring thing… kissing her isn't a punishment, it seems to be a godly reward. I pretended to myself that I could kiss her just for the power and the feeling of control, but it seems to me that the second time that was impossible. She is worming her way into my heart, and she doesn't even realise it. Kissing her is like a heaven sent gift - amazing, seductive, alluring... she is amazing and I want her. I need her. Imagining her soft skin under my hands now, my tongue in her delicate mouth, her sweet lips kissing my own back furiously it's like- NO! I must stop thinking of this!

But.. perhaps there is another reason why I ordered her to tell Shane, so that he would ultimately go and kill Brandon himself. This would leave his death imminent and… no, I cannot admit it. If I go there, then I relinquish all control and turn into that simpering idiot, Sam (or indeed Amelie), which is something I cannot afford to do.

I _will_ not fall for her… I will simply regain all control over myself and lose the feelings that I seem to be gaining – they are phantom and not real. I will not relinquish the power I can gain here, for something that isn't even real – she is under my control, although she doesn't realise it; she isn't feeling any real feelings… she is simply reacting to me and doing what I want her to do.

Isn't she?

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**Vicky xx**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: **

**Next chapter of twistedness and darkness... Enjoy! Also, things have been changed slightly from the books!**

**I don't own anything!**

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_Claire's POV:_

"Where the hell can he be?" I yell, pacing up and down the living room.

"With his father," Michael shrugs, pacing in the opposite direction.

"Because you told him that Brandon bit him," Eve continues, standing in the corner because Michael and I are taking up all the room pacing.

"Jeez, Claire, I thought you said you wanted to keep it from him so that he didn't react like that?" Michael says, shaking his head. He turns around and throws a huge punch into the wall, the house shaking in response.

"No need to destroy the house," I reply, my voice shaking slightly. "And did I? I... I just thought that it'd be best that he knew about it, now, rather than later because then he'd get even madder," I continue, a tear escaping down my cheek. Michael's angry expression relents slightly and he moves over to give me a hug.

"To be honest, I agree with it," Michael whispers into my ear. However, Eve doesn't say anything, simply walks out of the room in a stony silence. "Ignore her, Claire, she's just mad because she didn't protect you from this happening," he soothes me, as my tears turn into full sobs.

"B-but she couldn't have done anything: she wasn't there and... And I can't believe that Shane's gone..." I wail, Michael pulling me onto the sofa.

We wait for Shane to come back, Michael comforting me as we do.

He doesn't come back...

OoOo

"Hello?" I say into the phone, sleep flooding my tone.

"Claire, if you want to save Shane, you'd best come to City Hall now," an unknown voice says down the phone. I know who it is, but my brain is being too slow for me to realise.

"Who is this?" I ask groggily.

"Sam Glass, Michael's Grandfather," he reminds me, sounding stressed and worried.

Then it hits me; what's up with Shane? What has he done?

"Sam, what's wrong with Shane?" I ask, sitting upright in shock. I move out of bed and down into the living room, where Michael ceases playing the guitar in shock of seeing me, before he answers.

"He's been caught with Brandon's body," he confesses. NO! I told him not to do anything; he's gone and killed Brandon, the one who bit me. NO! He's going to be arrested and murdered, all because of me! "Hans and Gretchen are on their way over, but I decided to give you a heads up to get ready. Amelie never has been happy with people dressed haphazardly - even in the middle of the night," towards the end his voice turns soft and longing, but I don't care. Shane is in danger and two violent sounding vampires are coming to pick me up; this cannot be good.

"Thanks Sam... I gotta go," I say, hanging up before he could answer. Michael grabs my shoulders and holds me up as I suddenly begin to fall, wails of hysterical worry coming out of my mouth.

"Claire, what's happened?" he asks, worry and panic in his voice.

"Shane... Shane has been found with Brandon's body," I whisper, that being the only information that I know. "Michael... He's going to die, I know he is!" I continue, Michael hugging me in sympathy.

"Claire, it's going to be fine: go and get ready and I'll hold them off for a little while," he says, as we suddenly hear a car. I nod before he continues: "Well, they can't get in anyway until I invite them in."

I rush up the stairs, elevated speed caused by the unequivocal worry for Shane. I wrench open my wardrobe and randomly select a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, debating whether or not to wake up Eve. She isn't awake, so why wake her? She should be allowed to have a few more hours of not knowing, something I wish I have.

"Claire," Michael calls only thirty seconds later, and I know I have to go with these unfortunately named vampires. I wipe some of the tears away from my face, only for them to be replaced by more... I give up wiping them away, as my eyes overflow continually as I walk down the stairs. "You dare hurt her and I'll make sure Amelie knows," Michael threatens the two vampires who hover over the doorway, unable to enter with the lack of permission.

"Amelie?" the vampire I take to be Gretchen (as she's female) snorts before they both laugh. "Amelie, you silly boy, isn't going to be bothered about the death of a little human child, is she? No, I thought not.."

"If you want to say that _inside _the house, I'm sure that you won't be alive much longer," Michael hisses, making both vampires suddenly cease in their laughter.

"Whatever," Gretchen rolls her eyes before motioning for me. "You, girl, come with us if you want to see your boyfriend again," she clicks her tongue and I nod. Michael gives me a quick hug as I pass from the safety of the Glass House into the realms of Hans and Gretchen.

"Come with us," Hans says, pulling me none too softly by the arm in the direction of their huge police cruiser. Tinted so darkly that you cannot see inside, it is a monster that takes up the majority of the road, in the middle of which it is haphazardly parked.

"Where's Shane? What's happened?" I ask shrilly, wanting to know what's going on.

"All in good time, little Claire," Hans laughs as he pulls away from the house with a huge screeching of the tires. It's pitch black in the back and all I can think about is Shane and his face, how it was before he left me...

OoOo

"Out you get," Gretchen's squeaky voice orders me as she opens the door. She waits for me to get out before frog marching me through a dimly lit (therefore for vampires' personal use) underground car park, where I have never been before. She pulls me through some doors and into a lift, where she presses the fourth floor button - where am I? Where is she taking me? What's happened to Shane?

The doors open with a ping and I instantly realise that I must be in County Hall. This is the only building in town that is this high - it was built to be higher than any other... Well, I guess Amelie isn't exactly going to be living in a hole... Yet where she lives, I do not know.

"This way," Gretchen orders me, pointing towards a set of ornately designed doors, which are open. Babbling voices greet me, making my head spin as I try to find the voice of my loved one, the voice of my Shane.

"Shane," I breathe his name in shock, stopping still from shock in the doorway. He's being held back by two vampires, as he fights to get free. He's shouting, but I can't hear any words: I can see his mouth moving furiously, his eyes frantic, fighting desperately to get free but unable to. I cannot focus on anything but him: he's here and it's all my fault...

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_Oliver's POV:_

Yes! This is exactly what I wanted! This wasn't a particularly important mission, but it has proven that Claire is entirely under my control: once she has experienced the kiss by me, she does everything I want. She is _truly _mine: if I wanted her to kill Eve or... No, I mustn't think in such rude ways. Amelie is here and my expression could give me away: I cannot allow this power I have over Claire, through the drugged drinks and compulsion, to be taken from me.

And now I get to punish an innocent human, whose Father committed this crime! Yet who is going to believe that vampire hater Shane Collins is innocent? I know I most certainly don't, and Amelie _must _(even if she doesn't believe it) take the death option for the death of one of our kind; if not, she knows she could loose so many more followers on her side!

"Shane Collins, you are here as you were found with the body of Brandon, one of the older vampires in town," I sneer, before Amelie shoots me a degradatory look.

"I believe that _I _am the Founder of the town, not you, Oliver, so _I _shall be chairing this inquisition," Amelie states coldly: I'm getting under her skin! However, the way that I am doing it, in the future at least, will be done in a way that she cannot link it to me. I will be having Claire wreak havoc on this town in unimaginable ways, causing Amelie stress and concern that will weaken her. I hope she introduces Claire to Myrnin soon, which she will do if she truly believes that there is a disease...

... I'll have so much fun!

But back to the fun right now; Amelie is currently interrogating Shane, whilst his beloved girl stands in the doorway, frozen. Finally, bored, Gretchen drags her into the room and forces her to listen to the charge being brought against her boyfriend.

"It wasn't him, it was his Father!" she suddenly screeches, causing Amelie to wince slightly with the high-pitchedness of the screech.

"If I ever wanted your input, I would have asked for it," Amelie says, sounding extremely tetchy with Claire. I smile widely at this, knowing that the irritation will only, in the long run, bring Claire closer to Amelie.

I used to feel something for Amelie. We lived in close proximity in England for hundreds of years, until I acted stupidly. Too young, I tried to steal her power but she thwarted me at the last moment. I was exiled and only returned to Morganville last year, on my quest for the book I knew Amelie had. There was a small section of my heart that ached for her, but that was soon eradicated once I realised she had moved on and now was inflicting her distance and carefully controlled movements on some unfortunate soul. I never intended to stay in Morganville - I wanted to get the book and to leave - but when she said she had 'lost' it (a likely story), I decided that to stay would be to get the book. If I could raise a large enough army on my side, I could remove her from power and instate myself as the top of the food chain in the town. I may be not strong enough to _fight _her head on to win, but who would suspect little Claire Danvers to be such a murderer?

"Oliver, what is your vote?" she asks me, interrupting my thought process. I smile very slightly before settling on a blank expression as Claire turns to look at me. If I want her to trust me, to be more in line with me, so it is easier for her to be taken over by me, I need to appear as if I am deliberating over guilty or not.

Amelie has already voted guilty, the weak Mayor Morrell has done the same, so this is simply a courteously vote.

"I abstain from voting," I decide, my decision making every head in the room turn to me in shock. "I don't have the time: I have to return to my cafe before someone decides to steal the expresso machine, as they almost did last month. You don't need me. Shane Collins has already been found guilty; I see no point in tarring my name in this town by voting also," I continue, explaining my (fake) reasons. Claire looks at me in shock, as if she wants something from me but then looks away as she notices my returning of the attention.

Amelie is shell-shocked; this is the expression I want to be seeing on her face so much more often and will be, with Claire's wondrous assistance. She cannot explain why I am not voting, just continues to stare at me, her eyes narrowed. I can almost see the question in her head: _why is he doing this? Why is the most anti-human rights vampire in town not voting to send this boy to death?_

Finally, after a long pause, she relaxes and refocuses on Shane, looking rather desolate. She doesn't want to have to do this: but hopefully making her do things she doesn't want to continually will mean that she is weakened further - after all, to do something you don't want to takes a great deal of energy. The first time Claire's smooth lips pressed to mine, the amount of energy I used (I didn't particularly want to kiss a _human, _did I?) was astronomical... If Claire makes Amelie have to do things like this more often, she will be extremely weakened.

It would be, I believe, both good and bad for me if Claire was offered Protection by Amelie. She would be closer to her, so she could kill her easier... But Amelie may, if she offers Body and Soul contractual agreements, be able to tell Claire is under my control. I need to get there first...

"Shane Collins, I hereby find you guilty of murder in the first degree," Amelie sighs, causing Claire to scream out. Shane fights back and I have to hold in a smile as I pass Claire, the way that she's even begging me to help. She's truly under the belief that _I _am the good one in the situation, not the perpetrator of it. "Punishment will be display in the cages in Founders Square for two days and two nights. On the second night you will be placed within a ring of fire and will perish in response for your crime. That is all, gentlemen," she gives the punishment.

I turn back to look at the mayhem in the room: Claire, all but collapsed on the floor; Amelie, her head dipped slightly in shame for what she has done; Shane, fighting to get out of the binds he is being dragged away in, to get to Claire.

As I walk down the corridor towards the lift to take me to the car park for my car, I smile widely, knowing that my plan is already coming together.

On the way back to Common Grounds, I stop for a snack (i.e., one of the homeless idiots just _waiting _to be bitten) and savour the sweet taste of the blood in my mouth. That, mixed with the victory in me, almost tastes as good as Claire... Almost.

I deserve the snack: after all, it's been a good day's work!

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**Whoa, MAJOR prick action here... **

**...something interesting next chapter, me thinks.**

**Go ahead and press the review button, find out the interesting thing :P**

**You know you want to...**

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**Vicky xx**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

**Ok... teeny rant... I have loads of people who read this story, and at first I got loads of reviews... now me no get lots of reviews :(**

**Thanks to xXxVampChicaxXx for helping me beta this chapter!**

**RED NOSE DAY! Hey guys, I hope you've all donated money for this! I (and this is a shock) managed a FULL day of school with no talking whatsoever or even my phone, as my friend made that part of the conditions... I raised £43.78 and it's still going up, so yeah, hope you did as well! But the silence near as dammit killed me!**

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_Claire's POV:_

He's going to be killed. Shane, my Shane, is going to die,_ when he didn't do anything_. I can't do anything other than sit around and look stupid when I  
know that he's innocent.

Amelie wouldn't help him. She wouldn't listen to me, even though I was telling the truth. Michael said to rely on her about Brandon and everything, but if she won't even listen to the truth about Shane, why would she bothered about me? She isn't to be trusted.

But what about Oliver? He saved me from Brandon and he abstained from voting; he wouldn't have been able to stop the penalty, but the way he abstained made me believe that he could believe in Shane's innocence. Could I go to him to ensure that Shane survives?

I rush from the house without a second glance, heading for Common Grounds. Eve was still in bed but I definitely I felt a angry cold chill as I left the house I don't care; this could be the only chance I have to save Shane from definite death.

"Claire, what a pleasant surprise, given the circumstances," Oliver says to me, looking surprised to see me bursting into the cafe. It's empty besides another barrista and I point towards his office for a chat. Tears stream down my face as I walk in, the pain of everything that's going on killing me: I just can't believe it! The tears are just flowing from my eyes without me even realising - I bet I look a right state.

"I need your help," I confess again, sitting down in the chair. Oh god, it's like deja vu - he shuts the door as I talk, like last time... Was it only yesterday that I was in here, pleading for information about what happened? Only yesterday I was suffering memory loss so severe that I couldn't remember who _bit _me. I'm more relaxed with Oliver, more than I thought possible. More than I should be,actually, given our past...

"I seem to have a feeling that I know what this is about," he says gravely, his hands pressed together under his chin. He appears so _Headmasterly_, as if he isn't a vampire but someone scolding a pupil. I look him in the eye and he holds my gaze, keeping me captivated.

"Shane is entirely innocent but Amelie won't believe me, she won't help him," I say, tears escaping down my face. "It's all my fault that he's in there... If I hadn't have told him that Brandon bit me, he would have been safe and still be in bed right now, rather than being locked up in some stupid cage."

"Don't blame yourself, Claire," Oliver says, softer than I imagined possible. The tears continue to flow down my cheeks as I wonder to myself why I'm not scared to look him in the eye. I'm relaxed with Oliver, more relaxed than with Amelie or anyone else. Which is slightly worrying, since Oliver is the one that tried to kill me. "Brandon was a nasty piece of work and I can assure you that none of us are mourning his death. I guess it all depends on what lengths you would be willing to go to, in order for the saving of Shane to be possible," he finishes.

"I'd do absolutely anything," I state firmly, entirely confident in this belief. I'd do anything to ensure that Shane is freed, absolutely anything.

He contemplates this a moment, shielding his eyes and face from me suddenly. It feels weird; as soon as he looks away, it feels empty inside of me... It's like I need his gaze on me, something to ensure that he stays with me. This isn't what I should be feeling... I'm worried for me, that he's controlling me - but that's impossible.

Suddenly, he darts away: one moment he was there, the next he has disappeared into some far cupboard and is rooting through it. He returns, holding a box and a sheet of paper with the word _contract _written at the top.

Could I sign a contract to possibly save Shane's life?

"You said anything," he reminds me, opening the box to reveal a delicate bronze bracelet. "If you sign for Protection with me, I shall do my damndest to get Shane out of that cage," he continues.

"And if I don't?" I ask, watching as his hand (which was circling with the pen) suddenly stops. His eyes revert back to holding their position in mine and I have to remind myself to breathe. His grey-green eyes hook me, making me feel as if I'm having to swim through some dense substance to get out... But I can't.

"Then I doubt I shall feel the same inclination to fight for Shane," he shrugs. "It's your choice."

I hesitate... What do I do? Do I sign away my life for the off chance that he will get Shane released? After all, this _is _Oliver; he may have saved me and not voted but he is still the same man who wanted control of Morganville... who _wants_ control of Morganville - he never stopped wanting it...

"No," I decide, stating this suddenly. However, my voice doesn't sound assured and confident - it sounds shaky and puzzled why I am saying this.

I can't sign away my life on a whim, incase he can get Shane released. After all, what would Shane think? What would _he_ think of me signing a contract with _Oliver_, just to possibly save him? My life revolves around him; I need him to think that my actions are the correct ones... if he survives this, that is.

His face turns murderous for a moment before he masks it. He stands up and walks around to me, not breaking the eye contact as he pulls me upright. What is he doing? Why is he making me stand? Is he going to kill me for not accepting his request?

The eye contact breaks as his lips press to mine.

_Oh my god, why is he kissing me?_

That's my first reaction, as his lips press to my own, hard and fast. They force my own mouth open and his tongue slips into it. It sickens me for a second, as I fight for him to get off, until I relax.

I _want _him to kiss me. I want him to kiss my lips, kiss me, make me enjoy this. I wrap my arms around his back and pull myself closer to him, making sure that my entire body is pressed up against him so that I can feel the planes of his chest. He isn't particularly warm, there isn't a sense of warmness about him, but he is solid and physical and _hot_!

"Oliver," I murmur his name as his kisses ravage me, sending a course of electricity through me. I smile and manage to laugh slightly before his kisses head towards my neck, nuzzling it. The sensation shocks me; I've never felt this before, and I gasp in shock, causing Oliver to laugh.

"Claire," he reciprocates the whispering of the name, planting kiss after kiss on me before the oh-so-perfect lips return to my own. I kiss him back with as much force as possible, not even coming close to knocking him off balance. My arms slip around his neck so that I can get a better grip on him, making sure that I don't stop kissing him, and my fingers tingle at touching his soft and cold skin.

His arms are around my back, helping me push myself into him so we're touching in everyway possible. I breathe quickly before kissing him again and again... This is what I want, this is brilliant and I love it...

* * *

_Oliver's POV:_

She's kissing me back and loving it. I laugh slightly as she moans, the kisses on her neck exhilarating her. It's amazing... She's perfect and I'm not only doing this for power, if I'm honest.

I pressed my lips to hers with extreme force, angered that she declined my contract offer. I force her mouth open, bothered about the kiss only as far to get her under my power so that I can force her to accept my contract. However, after a few moments, she relaxes and kisses me back, causing an electric shock through me. She's only responding to my kiss, but it's in a way that means she would be reacting this way if she didn't already have a boyfriend, if I wasn't evil. She is enjoying it... So am I.

Her arms wrap around me and she bumps her body into mine, creating shivers running down my body in every area it happens. She kisses me back, her tongue tracing circles in my mouth, running down my throat, as I do the same to her.

"Oliver," she whispers my name and I smile... She's enjoying this. She's probably enjoying this almost as much as me, which is more than I would care to admit.

She needs to breathe, so I remove myself from her mouth and begin to ravish her neck with soft kisses. To refrain myself from biting her neck, from drinking her sweet _delicious _blood, is a challenge but I manage it. I manage to tuck up the fangs back into their usual place, leaving only dimple marks in her skin which soon fade.

I laugh softly, kissing her more and more, before suddenly I jump from her neck to her lips once again. She kisses me back and I whisper her name before laughing lightly, continuing to kiss her over and over again.

Finally, my senses return to me; this isn't just a kissing fest; I have a purpose behind this. I need her to sign with me so that Amelie cannot get her under her control. I need Amelie to be confused and wondering, rather than Claire signing with her and Amelie then knowing how she felt and what was happening.

I wrench myself from her lips and manage to simply look her in the eyes. She stares back at me, a look of adoration on her face that makes me swell slightly before concentrating back on the image before me. Carefully, I remove my arms from her and create a distance between us, before moving around the desk in order to get the contract and bracelet.

_Claire Danvers_

_This contract is between yourself and Oliver. You will become his, body and soul, in exchange for Protection. The only requirement is that you meet with him at his every request, be it to discuss your grades or what is happening in town. You will be expected to do as he asks here. _

This is the terms of the contract: if I take blood from her, I will become addicted and end up killing her before my plan is complete – to be kissing someone who you have a tangible connection with via their blood is impossible, if you wish for them to remain alive. I don't want money from her, as she doesn't have much, as I have enough.

"Sign this," I order her and she does so instantly, her name legible on the contract, unlike so many others. This is the second highest protection in the entire town – after Amelie's of course. She is unable to break my contracts, as I hers, because I am too powerful for that…

I grab the box and reveal the bronze coloured bracelet to her, grabbing her left wrist and slipping on the bracelet, through her bone and skin. She gasps in pain before it disappears, leaving an expression of nothing on her face.

"Oliver… what is this?" she asks, and I realise that the power I have on her is slipping at the moment – I need to concentrate rather than be distracted by her amazing beauty.

"You will remember that you decided to sign the contract, not that I forced you," I order her, fully concentrating on the mind control of the girl in front of me. "You will not remember kissing me, or that I kissed you, only that you decided it was in your interest to ask for Protection. Do you understand?"

She nods slowly, her brow furrowing slightly. Then her expression clears and she smiles slightly.

"So, Oliver was there anything I need to do for this contract to work?" she asks, worry now returning to her face. "I mean, I signed so that you would go and try and save Shane… you will, won't you?"

I nod and smile, knowing that my words to her were empty – I promised to try and get him out of the cage, I never said whether he was alive or dead.

"Yes, that is what I shall do now," I say, studying my nails as I return to sitting down. I need to appear distant and not as if I have _any_ feelings for her whatsoever, or that she has just been kissing me, especially as she is in her usual way now -she remembers all. "Goodbye, Claire, and go enjoy the day. It's meant to be beautiful."

She walks out of the office and I relax back in my chair, smiling as I think of the _huge_ step forwards I have just taken.

But in what have I made these steps forward in?_

* * *

_

_Claire's POV:_

I could have _sworn_ I had decided not to sign with him, but evidently I did. I have the bracelet on my wrist to prove it… oh god, what are Eve and Michael going to say? I did it for Shane but I don't know… I shouldn't have signed body and soul to _Oliver_ – I could regret it shortly, but I don't care. If it means that Shane can be released, I am glad… if he can be ok, I will _never_ regret this action.

I walk out of the café and head towards the Glass House, wondering how to broach the subject.

"_Oh yeah, Michael, Eve, I signed with Oliver… you know, the vampire you said not to enter a contract with…"_

That isn't exactly going to cut it, is it?

Oh god, how am I going to get Shane free _now_? I mean, how the hell am _I_ going to break him out of the cage?

Oh yeah. That's what Oliver is for. I guess… I guess I'm going to have to trust Oliver. Yippee!

* * *

**So, whatcha think? **

**Tell me, should Shane be freed or should he be killed? Tell me what you think!**

**Please review!**

**Vicky xx**

Chapter 7:


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

**Thanks to all reviews and stuff :P I had a short break from writing this week, but I decided to update for you today!**

***anything that could be comparable to Breaking Dawn, by Stephanie Meyer, is not intentional and all rights belong to her for this and Rachel Caine for everything else. The plotline belongs to me***

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_Claire's POV:_

"You did WHAT!" Eve and Michael yell at me, unanimously. "Claire, what the hell did you do this for?" Michael asks on his own, Eve glaring at me like I'm the enemy.

"I thought that it could help me save Shane," I whisper, confessing my feelings as I look at the bronze bracelet on my wrist. It doesn't belong there… but if it was the only thing I could do to make sure that Oliver would help Shane, I don't think I could have done anything else… I don't think, at least.

"I'm going to talk to Amelie, to see if she can cancel the contract or something," Michael exclaims loudly, pacing up and down. "For god's sake, Claire! Shane is in jail, going to be killed, and all you can do is go and get yourself in _more_ trouble!"

"I didn't mean for it to be trouble; I thought that by doing this, maybe there was a chance that Oliver could-"

"Oliver do something for a human?" Eve asks, agog. "Jeez, Claire, have you lost _every_ brain cell? When did it cross your mind that he would do anything that could lose him his little bit of power in this town?"

I shake my head and shrug my shoulders before hanging on the banister, trying to make sure that the bracelet stays out of my sight – out of sight, out of mind… At least, that's what I hope!

"He promised, Eve," I say quietly, my voice shaking slightly. "I believe that he is actually going to save Shane; Shane is entirely innocent and I'm hoping that he can be released."

"You know how many people who have been found guilty of murdering a vampire in Morganville have survived?" Michael asks me, agog at my belief. "One. Richard Morrell. He was found to have killed a vampire on the grounds of self defence and was given a respite by Amelie. I doubt, however, if he hadn't have been the mayor's son that he would have gotten away with it. Therefore, I doubt that you signing a bloody contract with Oliver could have done anything but make the situation ten times worse," he gives me the details but I try to not listen. I don't want to hear just how dire a situation Shane is in. I know it's bad... I just never thought it would be _that_ bad.

"I don't want to hear it," I say, covering my ears. As I do, Michael gets a better look at my bracelet before moving over and yanking my arm out. "What the fuck? You signed a _body and soul _contract with _Oliver_? Jesus, Claire, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"It seemed the right thing to do," I murmur, but he looks away, disgusted. Eve looks away as I look over at her, before she barges past me up the stairs. Tears flow down my cheeks as I realise that she's not bothered about me - she doesn't care for the reasons why I acted, only that I signed a bloody contract with Oliver and didn't consult with them. "I mean, it's my life, I can do what I want, can't I?"

"Consult with me in future," Michael says sharply, not wanting to upset me anymore but still furious with me. "Go to bed, Claire. I can't face this anymore," he orders me, but I don't mind... He's right; I should have consulted with him first before I did anything.

What's wrong with me? Why can't I remember anything? All I know is that I've signed the contract: I could have _sworn _that I didn't want to! I can swear that I've done something awful, something that I know I would regret id I remembered. What's happening to me? Seriously, my life seems to be falling apart and I can't remember anything about it when it does; Brandon biting me took forever to come, then the decision to tell Shane came from nowhere, scrapping my past plan to keep it a secret from him for a while, before now signing a contract that I don't have a single memory of! I don't remember the terms and conditions or _anything _- it looks like tomorrow I'm going to be returning to Oliver, _again_, to find out.

I nod, weary, and head up the stairs to my room, shaking in worry as I do. What's happening? Oh god... I don't know what to do anymore!

* * *

_Michael's POV:_

I cannot believe this. I cannot fucking believe that she could have done such an irresponsible and silly thing! Claire, the one person I thought (even with the bite) that I didn't have to worry about, has only gone and signed with the most dangerous vampire in all of Morganville! She couldn't have chosen Amelie _at least_, if she felt Protection could help her get Shane back - no, she had to bloody choose Oliver!

I need to speak to Amelie. I don't know how to contact her, since she isn't answering her phone, but maybe Sam will. If... If I allow him back into my life, maybe he will be able to help me - I haven't spoken to him since the day before Oliver tried to kill me. We had a huge argument and since then, I was a ghost whenever he visited, so I couldn't answer. I began to regret my actions (I was hurting) but I couldn't take them back...

"Sam, I need your help," I say instantly, not even bothering with a hello as my spitting double (just a vampire and with red hair) answers the phone.

"Michael, what's wrong?" he asks, panicked. It may have been two years, but he is still worried about me, cares for me. Maybe Eve was right; maybe I should have allowed him into my life before - he really is a good man; he is one of those who want to do good in the world, even if only a little. I hope... I hope that when I take the same steps to follow the same destiny as him, I do it half as well.

"I need to speak to Amelie but she isn't answering her phone, so I was hoping-" I begin, before he interrupts me.

"You were hoping that I could use whatever I have with her to pull some strings," he finishes for me, a grim tone to his voice. "Sorry, kiddo, but I can't: she refuses to see me. The only thing I can do is ring her for you, and hope that she is getting so bored with my calls that she finally answers," he suggests.

"That'd be great..." I say, not sure what else to say. After all, I need her for such a grim thing...

"Can I come over, Michael?" he asks me, and I think for a second. Why would he want to come over...? Either to see me or hope that when Amelie comes to see me, that she will realise her undying love for him and jump into his arms... Yeah, because that's gonna happen.

"Fine, whatever, yeah," I say slowly, smiling slightly. After all, it _will _be good to see him again - we had the greatest time when I was a kid, it just began to peter out a little when I got older (ok, a lot!) but I wish it hadn't.

"See you shortly, Michael," he says, a new found leap of enthusiasm in his voice. I hang up the phone before contemplating whether or not I really want to turn into a vampire.

I discussed it with Eve (unlike Claire, I actually consult at least some of the people I love) and she was supportive enough of the idea: I doubt she really _wants _to be dating a vampire, but I don't particularly want to _be _a vampire... Nonetheless, if it lets me get out of this house and able to possibly help Shane, I'll pay that price.

A knock at the door interrupts my thought process - that must be Sam. I rush over and unlock the door before proceeding to invite him in, feeling slightly nauseated that I actually invited a vampire in... This may be my Grandad but the last vampire I invited in tried to turn me, but ended up killing me.

The same vampire that has Claire.

"Michael, what's up?" he asks, inbetween listening to his mobile, cutting off when a recorded message hits before redialling.

"Claire has signed with Oliver," I say, and note how his expression changes to be entirely frozen in shock. His phone gives up ringing and a cool voice answers, seeming annoyed with the ringing (I can't make out words, only the tone) but he doesn't answer. "Don't you need to answer that?"

He nods slowly, unable still to process Claire's stupidity. Yet he lifts the phone to his ear and listens to Amelie's ramblings before she obviously manages to reach the question: what do you want? But this has to have been the first time in fifty years she has picked up the phone to him - directly, at least - and he's wasting it on me... Yet perhaps if I hadn't have made him ring continually in the space of five minutes then she would have continually ignored his phone calls, which are probably depleting in quantity every year. So, in a way, I'm sort of saving him.

It just took Claire to need it to be possible.

Of course, I'm doing this for Shane as well as for me. Shane needs to be saved imminently as he's going to die, and I need my liberty. But Claire signing with bloody Oliver is what has pushed it forwards slightly... If she hadn't have signed _body and soul _to Oliver, the contract could have possibly been able to be terminated by Amelie. Unfortunately, the gravity of the contract means such actions cannot be taken.

She's his until he doesn't want her anymore...

There's a reason why there isn't anybody in Morganville under Protection by Oliver that is body and soul; he can dictate who she lives with, what she does, who she married... But he always grows bored. A year, two max, down the line and he declares they've done something wrong and terminates their contract, often without their knowing. This means that they then go about life normally, rush into Common Grounds at night, and the rest is history: they're not Protected so nothing needs to be done to stop the predators - they're in the 'black' - in Morganville...

I hope I'm nothing like that. If I am... Eve has to destroy me... Or Sam... I don't care, as long as I'm _never _like Oliver or Brandon or Pennywell. If I become them, I have relinquished my humanity: something which I am NOT going to do.

He hangs up the phone and I realise, through all my brooding, that I missed the entire conversation.

I look over at him and he smiles slightly, nodding. "She's coming over now. But she said if it isn't important, she will get _extremely _angry," he conveys her message but I smile. She obviously loves him to come over for me, she hasn't fully left him no matter what he thinks.

"Ok," I say unnecessarily and he smiles. Suddenly, he moves over and gives me a hug, which I reciprocate.

"I'm sorry, Michael, for everything that happened in the past," he says quietly into my ear. He never did anything wrong! It was all me... But I suppose he feels guilty for it all.

I'm about to respond when he tenses up and moves away. I look at him, confused, and he inclines his head towards the wall (clear) and murmurs the word "portal" - there's nothing there, how the hell did he know?

Suddenly, the wall shakes and a door appears: he was right. He must have had enough experience with portals in the past to know when one is coming - when Amelie is coming. I doubt she allows Oliver to use them, for valid reason, and probably only the creator, whoever that may be, is the only other user. Sam has probably got the chance to use them, just probably never does. Then again, I don't really know him - who knows if he does or not?

Through the door comes Amelie, her long blonde hair tied back, and two bodyguards, looking menacing. Does she really think that _Sam_, the person who loves her, is going to hurt her? As for me, I probably could, but why bother?

"Michael, what do you want?" she greets coolly, not using a normal word of greeting.

"Claire has joined Oliver for Protection: body and soul," I say, noting how her face pales slightly and she loses some composure. Fear and shock break through her mask until she manages to regain it in less than a second. A human wouldn't have seen it; probably a vampire wouldn't have seen it. But I seem to have as good a reflexes and stuff as a vampire. It'll be the exact same, just I don't have to die every night.

"I do not see how that is relevant to me," she says finally, no emotion in her voice whatsoever. "I also do not see the relevance of Samuel being here, nor of his continual phone calls to insist that I answered."

"I asked him to do that because you weren't answering mine," I say honestly. Her eyebrows rise a fraction and she turns her attention fully to me. "But, you see, I need your help. With everything that's going on, I... I can't be a ghost anymore. To sit in here when Claire is going and signing away her life and not even being able to prevent it is impossible for me."

I take a deep breath and process my thoughts so that they are coherent, before continuing.

"I want to become a vampire."

Sam's eyebrows raise at the same time as Amelie's: oh yeah, I didn't _quite _tell him that part. I doubt he'd be exactly pleased since he didn't want to be a vampire, but I am asking to be one. Living in this house is a life sentence, never breakable, at least in the US. But if I were a vampire, I could always kill myself if I had to. At least I would have options.

Amelie looks more surprised than I could have possibly imagined. She moves closer to me, waving off her guards as they make to do the same, and looks me in the eye deeply, as if trying to see if this is a hoax. Yet I only show the determination I have felt for such a thing to occur for too long now, and that is all Amelie can see.

"Are you absolutely positive?" she asks quietly, warmly almost. "Michael, this is an irreversible change. If you were to change your mind even tomorrow, there is no going back. You will be a vampire forever, unless you choose death. I need you to understand that you cannot go back to even being a ghost. Do you?" she asks me, explaining things I was already positive about. Of course, not being on speaking terms with any vampire I couldn't be positive, but just from my Grandad, I guessed: he didn't want to be a vampire, especially after Amelie left him, and he still is, so it must be impossible.

"I know, and I'm willing to accept that," I say steadily, continuing to look into her eyes. She seems to accept that, but Sam doesn't. He yells at me to stop, to consider what I'm doing, so she pulls him aside and talks to him. I cannot hear her but the pause makes me nervous: I have a theory about how this is going to happen, but I'm not entirely sure.

"Michael... I see why you're doing this, I think," Sam says to me quietly, his tone heavy and more than slightly upset. "I hope that... I hope that you can accept what I am once you are the same, and can put the past behind us," he continues and my heart beats faster as I want to agree.

I nod, swallowing loudly but being unable to get rid of the blockage in my throat which is preventing me from replying. He smiles, hugs me, and goes to stand by the stairs - probably so that I don't try and attack the girls once I have turned.

Amelie turns to me with a sad smile and says quietly: "Michael... Only if you are 100percent. There is a disease that I and my dear friend are fighting to prevent all vampires becoming sick; so far, the outlook is weak. Claire was part of my plans but I don't think I can allow her into the equation anymore since you have told me this dire piece of news. Please tell me whether you wish to terminate your request now, for the fears of the future," she says - there's a disease? One that will destroy all vampires, in the end?

No matter; I _have _to do this - if, in the future, all vampires die, then I shall be stuck as a ghost forever. Shane... If he survives, Claire and Eve will die in the future, so nobody is going to want to live with a ghost; Morganville may even entirely collapse with no vampires forcing people to live here.

I could be alone.

"I still want to," I mutter, around the lump in my throat.

"Very well," she says gravely before moving closer to me. "Good luck, Michael... I hope that this will work."

Her fangs extend and are in my throat faster than I could possibly imagine. I fight the urge to throw her off and instead succumb to her draining of my blood without a word, although I wish I could scream with the pain. She's stealing my life, my blood, and it is more painful even than when Oliver did it, because I know it's happening, I _chose _for this, therefore I cannot scream.

I begin to grow weak and she has to hold me up, before she retracts her fangs. She lays me carefully on the floor, my eyes half closed with all my effort focused on keeping my slowing heartbeat alive, meaning that I can stay alive.

Her wrist raises to her fangs and she rips it downwards, causing a sudden flow of blood to cover the carpet. However, it is suddenly in my mouth, her hand holding my jaw open so that the flowing blood will enter my mouth before the wound quickly closes.

The crimson liquid tastes of rust and salt and my instincts say to spit it out. But I manage to struggle it down my throat, swallowing it even though it makes me want to gag.

"Ssshhh, it's alright, you'll be fine," Amelie murmurs, her soft fingertips grazing over my skin softly.

My heart rate begins to slow even more and I worry that it's because I'm dying. But then the burning begins in my throat: the vampire bloody begins to spread through my body in a burning manner that begins to attack my organs and blood cells. I begin to convulse, my body trying to fight the alien substance in me but failing, as the blood begins to affect my brain. I loose my sight and every sense as the pain in my head feels like it is being stabbed continually.

My throat burns and burns and that is all I can focus on until my senses return: everything is so much sharper to taste, to smell, to hear... I hear heartbeats upstairs, heartbeats that make my burning throat set on fire even more, and I _want _them.

My eyes fight to open but they won't... Not before my heart slows even more. It's barely making a beat every five seconds until it just suddenly stops. One second it's beating, before just silence... Silence.

My eyes flicker open and everything is just so sharp, so perfect.

I look up and hear an extra thing upstairs - it must be the bracelet... But it doesn't deter me. I simply flash upright, moving ridiculously fast - faster than I could have imagined, and zoom towards the stairs.

I want to kill Claire and Eve.

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**Whatcha think?**

**Please review! More reviews = faster update and I know you want that :D**

**Vicky xx**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: **

**So, a _little_ disappointed with reviews, but have an update on me!**

**Thank you to my amazing friend, spritesinger, who helped me beta this chapter... and who has helped me with story points in our amazing physics lessons!**

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_3rd person perspective:_

Shane, locked in the cage, is something that makes this person want to boil over with rage. They creep closer and closer, using the cover of night to make their prison break for Shane Collins - someone this person knows is innocent.

"What do you want?" he asks this person, as he spot them coming up to his cage. As he identifies the slender person beneath the hood, he pales visibly. "No, it's only been a day - it's not time!" he gets the wrong impression for why the person is here, but they shake their head.

"Relax, child, I am not here to kill you," they whisper to him, turning their head to ensure that nobody has overheard. There _is_ nobody for them to be overheard by; it is deathly silent in the Square of the Founder… a misty fog begins to sweep in tendrils along the ground, snaking up to meet the duo in the centre, and symbolises their moods entirely.

"Then why?" he asks, thoroughly perplexed.

They decline to respond, simply using their strength to break open the cage door and have it swing open before catching it deftly.

"Run, Shane, run," they say quietly, so low that Shane nearly misses it. "You have to leave – and fast. Do not return to Claire, or Michael, as otherwise I shall be unable to protect you, if you are found in public. Bear in mind that I have made a great sacrifice here, because I know of your innocence, and if you do anything against me, I shall be forced to take severe actions."

He nods slowly, torn between happiness and pain – happiness that he has been spared death but pain because he won't be able to see his Claire… at least for a while.

"Run," they remind him, handing him a bag prepared with everything he could need for wherever he is going to go.

They watch him as he runs across the dewy grass, shivering because of the cold, before he finally disappears around the corner.

Good deed done for the day, they return home and pretend that nothing has happened…

* * *

_Claire's POV: (skipped a little time from when Michael turned, but after the 3rd person bit)_

He's a vampire. Michael decided to turn into a vampire and he didn't tell me; if this is payback because I didn't tell him or Eve that I was going to sign with Oliver, then it's stupid. But I...I see why he did it - he was trapped in this house, unable to leave, and that must have irritated him. But why did he have to do it now?

"Claire," Michael says shortly, as I greet him in the kitchen. He looks pretty much the exact same - the only difference being paler skin and the longing in his eyes; the longing for my blood...

"Look, I'm sorry that I didn't tell you about signing the bloody contract, alright?" I just blurt out, sick of him and Eve giving me the evils... This was for Shane, so that he can hopefully be saved. They have no right to question my actions or what pathways I have taken - do they?

"I know," he says even more bluntly. "Yet you should have... Oliver is dangerous, Claire. Why do you think that you are the only one under that contract with him? There are no loopholes, besides on his side, so _you _are the only one to loose."

"I'm sure I can look after myself," I sy, slightly stung that he could think I need babysitting all the time.

"No, you can't," he contradicts me as he fills the kettle. "You have no idea what you've got yourself into. Even look at what you're doing right now. You're standing right next to a vampire who is _really _struggling to keep control," he informs me, before blurring out of the room so that it makes my eyes hurt. Whoa... He's thirsty? I made him thirsty? How is he managing to stay in this house then?

I sink into a chair and process exactly what he's just said - I can't look after myself and I'm reckless, basically. Well I'll show him that I'm just fine!

With a newfound sense of urgency, I rush up the stairs (which seems to be the path behind the hungry vampire) and into my room to grab my school rucksack. I wasn't going to bother going today, but since everybody hates me and Oliver hasn't rung to say that he has got Shane, I may as well... Otherwise I'm hanging around the house with a newly turned vampire - which I don't think is a good idea!

I run down the stairs and head out the door instantly, not wanting to stay in this house of misery and lies any longer... Well not lies, more stretchings of the truth and the concealing of important events. I wish he'd have told me why he was planning on turning into a vampire, or even just a little forewarning rather than coming down the stairs and finding a vampire there, rather than regular Michael. Eve already knew and wasn't surprised that he was vampified, hugging him once he had some blood: I wasn't disgusted, just shocked. Where was my Michael? There was just a vampire, who still seemed to hate me (with even more intensity, if I'm honest) for the decision I made without consulting him.

Yet I push everything to the back of my mind as the sun hits my face. Everything in this town just seems to have a rose coloured tint when the sun is out. Nothing is dangerous...

OoOo

"Claire, I need to see you," Oliver says silkily on the phone, making my heart drop in terror. It's the time between classes (two hours today), time I would normally go and see Eve but she isn't talking to me, and I instantly worry that he's going to kill me. _Don't be silly_, you've been 'his' for a day: that's too soon for even Oliver.

"What for?" I ask cautiously, moving into the corner so that there isn't a chance that I could be overheard by the clueless kids around me. I thought that this day was pretty good (once I left home) but evidently not; my new 'owner' wants to see me, and I must indulge this request - it's probably to discuss how much blood I need to give him or something.

"Does that _matter_?" he asks tetchily, and I shrink back from the imaginary Oliver in front of me. This one is scary enough - how scary real scary Oliver is would probably destroy me!

"No, I guess not," I say slowly, deciding that pacification would be the best idea here. "When?"

"When the world finds a cure to every disease that you have found, oh of course _now_ Claire!" he says impatiently – shit, he's majorly pissed now, isn't he?

"Fine, I'm coming over now then," I sigh, picking up my bag and rushing out of the gates to my left. I hang up the phone (which he has already disconnected… not a good sign) before near running down the road that'll take me directly to Common Grounds – this is just going to be great, isn't it? He's going to be mega happy and I'm going to be _so_ psyched to be his now, without even remembering signing the damned contract…

…I'm so worried about myself; I _know_ I shouldn't be, that every focus should be on Shane and getting him out of that cage, but I can't help but be – I signed a damned contract and I have no chance of getting out of it. I'm worried that I can't remember anything that has happened and that I'm feeling things that I shouldn't; when Oliver called, his voice going into my ears, it sent a shiver through me that I have only just managed to realise is the same as when Shane calls me… I don't know why and I don't know how, all I know is that it is the same.

What is happening to me? Everything is going wrong; it's like Ginny Weasley, in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets – she can't remember whenever she does anything, but in my case it seems to be whenever anything bad happens to me as well. I don't know why or what is going on, but I am seriously concerned.

My thoughts are interrupted as I almost end up walking into a door in the Common Grounds. Once again, it seems to be empty. _Oliver needs to be getting himself some business or he'll be going bust,_ I think wryly, smiling slightly before it slides off my face as I realise that I am going to see Oliver.

I can ask him about Shane. I can ask whether or not he has made any headway in finding a way to get him out of the cage.

After all, that's why I've done this. Right?

* * *

_Oliver's POV:_

Finally, she is here. Finally, I can begin to put the next stage of my plan into action – I need to, to be able to assert my power in this town within the next three or four months _max_. after all, I don't believe that I need to wait more than a third of a year _maximum_ to have Claire kill Amelie, with what I have planned for her… it shall begin small (ish) and not particularly personal to Amelie, the first event. However, as they proceed, they shall get closer and closer to Amelie - and her heart - before finally her herself.

"Come in," I drawl, knowing that Claire is hovering outside the door. I have to try and keep these _stupid_ emotions (that probably are nothing besides lust) under wraps because otherwise my entire wish for Morganville will be gone.

She walks into the room and looks scared; however, the bracelet on her wrist seems right at home. She probably fears that I am going to be asking her to arrange to give me blood (probably from her neck… I think I may have to take some more from her soon) or her money, something that she only has a pitiful amount of. I smile, giving my best non menacing one, at her and she smiles back almost reactively before sitting down in the chair in front of me.

I couldn't find Shane. It worried me; I truly did go and look into perhaps _considering_ having him released, but he had already gone. I presume that Amelie decided to have him killed earlier, so that Claire couldn't do anything to make sure that he was released. However, I can use this to my advantage…

"Have you got any news on Shane?" she blurts out and I smile, knowing that this is exactly what I want. I can give her the information she needs and then get her under my control once again as to make sure that I can begin my control of Morganville.

"I went there last night," I begin slowly, noting how her body tenses up at the beginning of my story. Oh, this is too easy – she is just waiting for me to give her this information… little does she know that this information is going to result in something that she _really_ doesn't want to happen. "I released him, Claire, without Amelie knowing. She thinks that I turned the burner on early and killed him, so she is rather angry with me, but I didn't…" I decide that it is a good idea that I should appear to be a martyr in the case of Amelie, making sure that she seems to be the bad person, so that Claire would believe me more and make me the 'good guy' again… but I do _not_ like being interrupted!

"Where is he then?" she butts in, and I allow her this… I cannot be… _yes I can_! I don't have any feelings for her; I don't need to be lenient on her.

"I would appreciate it if you managed to restrain yourself _every_ time you wish to jump into the conversation," I reply tetchily, watching as she shrinks backwards from me. I see something in her eyes, something that reminds me of a look I saw in Amelie's when she looked at Samuel… but no. it cannot be…

"Sorry," she murmurs, and I continue with my story as if nothing had happened whatsoever between us.

"I released him, under the conditions that he doesn't come near Morganville for six months minimum," I lie fluidly, noting just how easy it is for me to be able to lie, making it up entirely on the spot. "I need to be able to calm Amelie down before he returns and if he is in the house with you, especially with Michael having just became a vampire, I doubt that that is the best idea for his continued survival," I continue, watching her face pale dramatically but also have a fresh burst of life into it. Oh, it is _so_ simple to lie and she entirely believes it.

There is another reason why Shane cannot be in the house – if my plan is to work, then he cannot be around to make sure that Claire isn't turning back to her previous ways of good; he cannot be around to calm her down from the high state she will be in and to quash her fears about what is happening.

"Thank you," she whispers and looks me in the eyes. Her own are shining with tears, tears of joy I believe.

Now it is time for stage two of my plan for this meeting.

I stand up quickly and move towards her, my body prepared for what is going to happen and is standing on edge. However, I'm not going to get carried away today kissing her; this is the beginning of my plan and I need her to get on with the plan sooner than my kissing her for fifty million years like last time.

I wrench her up from the chair with the arm on which her bracelet is and she faces me, confusion on her face… until my lips smack down onto hers; that's when she kisses me back. _Damn_, she has to kiss me back, doesn't she? She makes me want to continue kissing her, but once I know that she is under my control (when she slumps against my body) I stop. I need to learn some restraint – I decide to start this now.

"Claire, I have a mission for you," I whisper into her face, pressing my forehead to hers and feeling her warm breath hit my face in pants – evidently the kiss was more for her than it was for me.

"What is it?"

I take a deep breath before deciding to blurt it out – her warm, innocent, open eyes are on me and I cannot cover what I am going to say. It shall not hurt her… as she shall not remember. All she will remember is the mission…

"You are going to kill Eve Rosser."

* * *

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**Please review! Lots of reviews, please, for this cliffie and then maybe (maybe) I'll give you another chapter soon!**

**Vicky xx**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: **

**Thank you to the awesome people who have reviewed!**

* * *

_Oliver's POV:_

She doesn't react to this news, that she must kill her best friend, and it worries me a little, shakes my resolve that this is right. Perhaps... Perhaps I ought to leave murder for later, for closer to Amelie. After all, it _would _make a better impact later on, wouldn't it not? After all, using your master weapon in the beginning just doesn't leave anything to the imagination. No, no she cannot be murdered. Not _quite_ dead, anyway.

"I mean... I want you to seriously injure Ms Rosser," I contradict myself and her eyes betray nothing... There is nothing in them to be betrayed. She has no emotions in this controlled state, this way that I dictate what she is to think, to do, to say even, if I wanted.

"Ok," she says simply, smiling slightly. She's taking on my beliefs and emotions to the action she is going to do - she has none of her own.

"You will go to Jason's flat - her brother - and steal his gun," I inform her of the first part of the plan, the part that gets him jailed for what Claire is actually going to do. "You shall then return home, as normal, and wait until Michael has gone out and Eve is in the living room. Sneak up behind her and shoot her in the back, but not in the heart. You shall then drop the gun - ensure that you never touch it without gloves - and head upstairs to wash your hands... Get changed and return downstairs, in a state of shock. Return to yourself here. Do you understand?" I explain, happy when she nods. Oh, this is going to be too easy if she takes eveything on as easily as this.

However, the amount of energy I used to ensure she did this was incredible. I believe that to compel someone to do something that is deemed an act of violence you need to use more and more energy, drawing upon it from different avenues. By the end, a kiss isn't going to be enough... How far will I have to take this?

"Go," I instruct her, releasing her from the bind. She snaps back to normal - appearing to be, anyway - and becomes a little confused.

"Sorry, what did you just say?" she asks and I smile very slightly.

"I informed you that you need not donate blood nor money to me, I already have enough of that, thank you very much," my words obviously confuse her: evidently her lovely friends have informed her that I would be taking lots from her... I am. Just not what you would expect. "However, I shall be monitoring your grades and if I feel necessary, you shall have some people who need better grades to tutor... Of course, they shall pay you... Who would volunteer to spend time with them otherwise?" I trail off as my train of thought ends suddenly.

"Is that all?" she confirms and I nod, watching as she moves out of the door once I give the confirmation. Her gaze never leaves me; it's as if she is waiting for me to stop her... But there is something in her eyes that makes me think it's something more.

Once the door is shut, I shake my head to remove this train of thought from it.

_Don't be silly, Oliver, she doesn't feel like that..._

_Claire's POV:_

So, yeah, it's gonna be a normal day for me. Just chilling, do some work, breaking and entering, chill, almost kill my best friend. I know I need to do this... I can't exactly remember why, but evidently I have to. It's just the thing to do...

But first, I need to stop off at her brother's apartment. I need to grab his gun - using gloves, of course - because otherwise how am I going to get a gun? Even in this town, they aren't going to give a gun to someone who quite obviously isn't 21, are they? I need a way to attack her, and this is thest way... It can be pinned on her layabout of a brother, who I _severely _doubt will have an ailibi and has enough motive to try and kill Eve, since she had him put in prison!

I rush down the road, away from the Glass House, and head towards the run down area where I know Jason lives. I sneak into his apartment building, there being no doorman or whatever, and pray that he isn't in his flat; I looked him up on the internet system of ex-prisoners and found his address. Apparently he is at work at the minute but you can't always be sure... He could be ill, on holiday, or even on lunch.

Skulking in the shadows like a vampire, I rush down the dirty corridor, the walls covered in cobwebs and dirt... Ew. I mean, who the hell actually _wants _to live in a place like this?

Evidently, not even Jason. His door is semi open and I worry for a second that he is inside, until I realise that that's the way that the door remains - it doesn't fully lock. However, inside is a slightly different sight to what I expected: sure, it's dirty, but it's actually got some semblance of order inside, with dvds stacked up next to the tv... So that order must mean that the gun is stored in his underwear drawer, as so many people who own guns keep it!

Grimacing at touching somebody so disgusting's underwear, I move his boxers aside to find the box which looks like it most likely contains the gun. I pull on the thick gloves in my pocket before yanking the box out of the drawer. Carefully, I tease the lid off and reveal a well maintained gun; a gun with a strange barrel shape and a long handle thing... Bullets roll around in the box as I lift out the gun, dislodging the tiny metal shells and I begin to admire the craftmanship of the gun. It's perfect for the job it's been designed for... To seriously injure the owner's sister.

With a sinister grin, I shove the gun into my bag and replace the box in the drawer, running out of the flat and the entire area of Morganville (it's disgusting and run down) within three minutes. With all the speed I can muster, I sprint down three roads to make my return to the Glass House within only five minutes; I know Michael is in at the minute, so I can't do it yet, but hopefully he'll go out... I don't actually know why I want to do this (I love Eve) but it's the right thing to do. I know it is; it _has _to be!

"Hey, CB," Eve says easily as I walk in the house. I notice she is all edgy, waiting for something or someone - Shane. I'd half forgotten about him... But why is she suddenly speaking to me? I thought she hated me, for signing with Oliver! "Look, I'm sorry about how I reacted about the whole contract thing. I was in shock about that and Michael and, well, I didn't take it too well. But you're the genius; I'm sure you know what you're doing," she explains this point to me as if she has read my mind on what I was thinking.

"Thanks Eve," I smile, slightly superficially... Do I _really _want to shoot her, a part of me thinks. Do I _really _want to cause such pain to my best friend? But the answer comes as yes: the majority of my body knows that, although I may not particularly like it or remember the reason, I have to do this...

"Where are you going?" Eve suddenly yells, and I realise Michael is zooming past us towards the door... He's leaving... This is my opportune moment...

He halts by the door and turns to look at us, sighing heavily.

"Well, you see, I have some things to do and they're quite important," he vaguely says. "I'll be back in like six hours or so. See ya!" he yells over his shoulder, sprinting from the house to the heavily tinted car he's already managed to get himself.

"Well, wasn't that nice!" Eve mutters, turning her attention to the wall. "Hey... Did Oliver manage to release Shane or not?"

"He's released him but he's managed to get him out of town until Amelie cools down; at least he's out," I explain and Eve turns to look at me with an elated grin.

"CB!" she squeals, rushing over to hug me. The bag with the gun in falls to the floor with a soft thud and I freeze for a second, waiting to see if it'd go off... It doesn't... It's just in One Tree Hill (and various films) that it does that! "That's brilliant news, isn't it!"

"Yep, it's absolutely amazing: it's what I wanted!" I squeal, unable to not be ecstatic at this reminder of the brilliant news. He's free! He isn't going to be killed for a crime he didn't commit!

Eve jumps back onto the sofa, her back to me, and becomes engrossed in a film.

"You watching this?" she asks suddenly, as I hover behind her. I shake my head as I recognise New Moon: how the hell does she get all this vampire stuff in here? Oh yeah... I brought that one with me... But still! "Suit yourself," she smirks before refocusing her interest entirely in the shirtless Taylor Lautner.

It's almost too easy.

Suddenly inspired by something, I snatch my bag up and pull on my gloves before removing the gun from my bag. With hands shaking with trepadation, I raise the gun to the back of the entirely unaware Eve and focus it on the centre of her back... Hopefully it will make her unconscious and, if I leave her a few minutes, she'll settle into a coma and not be able to contradict me saying it was Jason...

BOOM!

The bullet flies out of the gun faster than I thought possible and connects with Eve's skin with a THUD! It's so instantaneous that she doesn't have time to react; she simply falls fowards and begins to bleed.

With a smile, I drop the gun to the floor and head upstairs to wash my hands, knowing that my work is done...

* * *

_(Like Claire changes to be herself again... She thinks that she was upstairs during the attack...)_

Oh god... What was that noise? It sounded like a gun, when someone shoots someone on television... But it sounded more real.

I rush down the stairs... NO!

"EVE!" I yell, spotting the body keeled over on the sofa, blood dripping softly onto the floor. I grab her and throw her back amidst the tears, and check to see whether or not she's breathing... Oh god, it's a weak pulse...

I scramble over the sofa to the phone and dial the emergency services.

"Hello, please you have to help me!" I exclaim down the phone as soon as someone picks it up. "My friend... She's been shot!... Yes, it's the Glass House on Lot Street, come quickly; she's got a very weak pulse and she is barely breathing!"

I throw the phone down and rush back to Eve; who did this? What happened... There's a gun on the floor and I have a feeling that that was the thing that shot her.

"Eve, come on honey, _wake up_!" I urge her... Where's Michael? Of course he's going to want to bloody know that she's injured. I look for my phone, realising it's in my pocket, and wipe my bloody hand on my trouser leg before pulling the phone out. I dial him but he doesn't answer... Where the bloody hell is he, that he can't even respond to a life or death phone call?

The only person left I can think of ringing is Oliver... But the sirens are coming. I hear them approaching the house, so I rush to open the door and wait to invite them in, since no humans can enter without permission since the owner became a vampire.

Oh god, Eve, why are you like this? Surely I should have heard it happen, I should have realised that this was happening when I was upstairs... God, please... Eve WAKE UP!

* * *

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** I'm literally going to get on the ferry to Calais to take me to Barcelona in a bit, so I'm not updating for about a week. I've not died or anything! :P**

**Vicky xx**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11:**

**Reviews are permitted from last chapter, as the site went down :(**

* * *

_Claire's POV:_

They take her away in an ambulance, the lights flashing blue to show just how much of an emergency it was. Once she has gone, it doesn't take long for the police to show up.

"Claire, can you tell me what happened?" someone called Detective Lowe asks me gently, his hand on my shoulder in a comforting position. Oh, why can't Michael or Shane be here? Why can't Shane come back? He managed to be freed by Oliver – can't Oliver do something to make Amelie forget why she was angry, angry that Shane was the first human to ever escape the cage?

"I… I was upstairs," I am sure of it – otherwise, I would be shot like Eve. "To be honest, it's all a blur. I remember rushing down the stairs to find her like that and then I tried to help her before calling the ambulance, who took her away. Oh god, she is going to be ok, isn't she?" I ask, so worried for her. God, why did poor, perfect, _wonderful_ Eve have to be shot? Couldn't… no, I don't even want Monica Morrell to have been shot. Couldn't just _nothing_ have happened, or they tried to shoot Michael but he would be fine because he is now a vampire so can't die unless they're silver bullets, which I doubt.

"She should be fine, Claire… Eve is, has always been, a fighter – she won't let this get her down," Lowe says with a grim look on his face. "We'll catch the bastard that did this… hey, is that a gun?" he says suddenly, looking into the corner of the room. I follow his gaze and spot a gun that I've never seen before – could it be the attempted murderer's gun?

Lowe and his partner (I didn't quite catch his name, what with the circumstances) move towards the gun but don't touch it. However, they seem able to identify it from just standing a distance away.

"That's Jason Rosser's gun and it matches the size of the bullet that she was shot with," the partner whispers, trying to keep me from hearing. But I do anyway… Eve's _brother shot her_? Oh god, this can't be happening. Not only has Eve been _shot_, it was her brother that did it, I think.

"Claire, what's going on? Why are there police cars outside?" Michael's worried voice hits me and I turn around to see him standing behind me. Instinct takes over and I wrap my arms around him for comfort, tears escaping my eyes again. "Why is there blood everywhere?" he asks, more urgently, into my shoulder.

"Michael, it's Eve… I was upstairs and I heard a shot and I came downstairs and... And she was lying there. Michael, I did everything I could, I swear," I break down and only his comforting keeps me standing up.

"Come on, if the Detectives have finished with you, let's go to the hospital," he says quietly, looking over at the duo for confirmation.

"Yeah, we need you to leave anyway - thanks Claire, and Eve will be fine," Lowe says to me, smiling albeit wan and not entirely convincing.

Michael half drags me out of the house and into his car, which is as dark as the night. I curl my legs up and the silver bracelet of Oliver's digs into my skin, an unwelcome reminder. Maybe this is some twisted and sick way to get back at me for joining with Oliver. Oh god, I hope it isn't, but now the thought is in my mind, it won't leave. I can't believe that someone would do this to Eve, however, just to get back at me. It isn't fair and it most _definitely_ isn't right. God, why can't everything go back to how it was before? With me and Shane, Eve and Michael, Oliver and control of Morganville – everything could just return to being near as dammit perfect.

Michael zooms towards the hospital, ignoring every single traffic restriction – I can't actually tell how fast we're going, since I can't see out of the windows to gauge the speed, but it must be fast. He's grim and determined to get to the hospital so that he can be with Eve – but he is a new vampire and she has been shot. Will they let him in, with all the blood?

Time will tell.

"Come on, Claire," he urges me and I realise with a jolt that we're at a standstill. So I pull myself up and clamber out of the car with the new car scent still, hoping desperately that Eve will be ok.

We're parked in the underground car park and Michael jabs the button for the lift to take us up to the reception so that we can find out where she is. I walk into the lift with him, silence wrought with tension, and we travel up to the ground level, the a&e department actually near as dammit empty.

"Hello, we're here about Eve Rosser, she was shot," I say tearfully, when it becomes apparent that Michael won't approach her – she'll be scared of him.

"Eve Rosser," the receptionist (who looks rather tired) repeats and types her name into the computer. Something pops up and she swallows hard before turning back to me. "Ms Rosser has been gravely injured. Her doctor, Dr Johnson, wishes to speak with you most urgently. He is in room 210, please head there right now."

I slump down slightly – whenever the doctor wants to see the relatives/close friends, it is _never_ a good sign – and Michael comes and takes me through to the room. I look at his drawn face and see that he is in slight pain from the blood, but probably more for Eve. Surely he will be able to hear her now? Then again, maybe not; he is a new vampire – perhaps his senses are so much weaker than the others. After all, Amelie is only so powerful because she is over a thousand years old.

But why am I thinking about this now? I need to concentrate on Eve and see what is wrong with her, other than having been shot.

"You are here about Ms Rosser, I take it," the tall, semi good looking, doctor comments as we barge straight into the room without knocking. After all, why would we knock when we could have lost our Eve?

"No, we decided that we were bored so would take a prank trip down to the hospital and barge in to find out about someone we don't even known and pretend to be her concerned friends," Michael says sarcastically, his anger even more pronounced because of the fact that, _hello_, he is a vampire. "Of _course_ we're here about Eve," he clarifies, when the doctor's cool gaze makes him feel slightly ashamed – good to know that there are the humans out there that can make the vampires feel ashamed.

"I quite accept your apology," Dr Johnson comments, even though none was actually issued. "In regards to Ms Rosser, she is in an extremely dangerous predicament. She was shot through her back, which caused possible paralysis, and narrowly missed her heart. She lost a lot of blood and bloodflow to her brain was ceased for a few moments. She is currently in a coma, but for how long we are not sure. I am sorry to tell you this, but there isn't a strong chance of her getting better in the foreseeable future," he finishes finally. My stunned brain takes a long time to register his words; even when I do, Michael is still trying to process it through his thoughts.

"Can we see her?" I ask through a rough voice and the doctor nods. He beckons for me to follow, and I drag Michael with his arm, and we head through a double door to see a pitiful sight. Eve is hooked up to about a million machines and she looks so _weak_, so vulnerable, in a hospital gown with no make up or smile on her face. She looks scared and not able to hold her own.

She looks almost dead.

My mobile suddenly beeps and the doctor looks at me admonishingly from his retreat from the room. Michael doesn't seem to notice, instead stroking Eve's hair back from her face, so I look at the caller id. It's Oliver. Yay, just what I wanted – the man who has me under his control, body and soul, _forever_ is on the phone to talk to me when my best friend is lying in a bed and probably going to die. Just fricking brilliant.

I turn away from Eve and face the wall before answering the phone.

"Yes, Oliver?" I question in the nicest possible tone that I can possibly muster at this time.

"I heard about Eve, is she ok?" he surprises me by asking, seeming actually concerned for her.

"She is in a coma and could be paralysed… they don't know how long she will be out for," I whisper, barely able to actually confess this.

"I need to see you, Claire, but it can wait until sometime tomorrow, if that is easier," he says in the most pleasant voice I have ever heard him use. "I mean, if that is ok," he surprises me _again_ by saying, actually sort of giving me a choice in going. not that there really _is_ the choice – he is only making it seem as if it is more optional.

"Noon should be ok," I think it through, this meaning that I can spend the night asleep, the morning with Eve and then go to Oliver. Then I can go to the police station and find out if they have any more leads and links to Jason attempting to murder his big sister before returning to the wonderful hospital…

"Noon it shall be," Oliver easily agrees – this is too easy. Has he perhaps got an ulterior motive or something that I don't know? I cannot comment; I am too worried for Eve. "My condolences for Eve – pass on my get well wish to her, if you wouldn't mind," he says before hanging up the phone without even a goodbye.

I do the same and take a deep breath, wondering why the world seems so damned determined to destroy me…

_Oliver's POV:_

* * *

She did _exactly_ as I asked her. She harmed her in a way that will keep Eve unconscious for rather a long time (if she woke up, she could identify Claire as her assailant and then my entire plan would have been ruined) but didn't kill her – after all, the piece de rèsistance is for the end, the finale… or even just before, in fact, if my current plan continues to play out as it is doing at the moment.

It took all my effort to appear concerned for Eve, when inside I was jumping with glee that this has happened as smoothly as I thought it would. I heard through the police grapevine of people I have that Jason has already been arrested, his prints being the only ones found on the gun, and he didn't have a solid alibi meaning that he was the only suspect. After all, who would _really_ suspect little Claire of the attempted murder of her best friend?

I lean back in my chair and shut my eyes, knowing that I can relax a little, before Common Grounds opens for business.

Phase one of my plan has now been completed. It has begun the seed of doubt that must already be springing up in Amelie's mind – why someone would attempt to murder Eve in her home – and I expect a visit from her highness herself shortly. After all, she must be beginning to suspect me, no?

I smile to myself as I slumber, knowing that I have all the cards here. Amelie is powerless.

* * *

**Whatcha think? I hope you enjoyed it!**

**Please review! I can just not update for a long time... It's gonna be good for my revision... so please, when you read, REVIEW!**

**Tell you what... I'll make the same deal I am for other stories... we're on 72 reviews, right? So if we get to 80 on this chapter - WE GOT 12 THE FIRST CHAPTER... IT IS POSSIBLE! - I will put all the reviewer's names into a draw and the winner will be informed next chapter - so non-account holders can enter - and you can then tell me what oneshot you want writing. Sound like a plan?**

**Vicky xx**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12: **

**So... 2 weeks since I updated. Sorry about that. If you've looked at the front page of MV fics, I seem to have a few too many (Bite Club fics help with that) so I thought it would be prudent to not update this for a while... enjoy this riveting chapter as a payment though... and I'm almost done with chapter 16 as well!**

**Winner of the competition is... DestinyVampSerena! Review and tell me what oneshot you want!**

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_Claire's POV:_

After spending the morning vigil at Eve's bedside, I leave the hospital to go to Common Grounds. It's nearly noon, but surely Oliver won't be _really _mad if I'm a little late, no? Then again, this could be a step towards him having an excuse for disposing of me...Ever since Michael put that fear in my mind, there has been a part of me that has been worrying that anything I do will be scrutinised beyond belief, him looking for me to have made a slip up worthy of my destruction. I can only hope that... No, let's not go there, even in my head. But there is a part of me that wishes I hadn't succumbed to signing with Oliver; I wish I had waited for Amelie's offer that I know would have come. Yet I am now Oliver's, body and soul, for my entire life and the only option other than this contract is death. Yay!

I sprint down the roads and arrive, sweat ridden and exhausted, ad 11:59am. I'm just in time - it looks as if I've planned to arrive now, rather than simply rushing. It would have looked better if I didn't have the obvious signs of rushing on my face but that cannot be helped. I've arrived on time - early, in fact - and that's all that matters.

"Hello Claire… how is Eve?" Oliver asks me as if I have simply dropped by for a chat with an old friend, rather than being ordered the way I was. Whilst he talks and I think, he is already moving around and making my drink for me, the café mysteriously empty. I cannot say that I have _ever_ been in (not that I have been in _optionally_ much recently, since Oliver's true nature was revealed… or been in and not lost some memory or another) and not seen another person - strange! It's normally the busiest place _in_ Morganville!

"She is unconscious and the doctor says her chances of waking up soon are next to none," I sigh, sinking into one of the chairs in front of the counter. He shakes his head and actually looks sincere when he says he is sorry for this to have happened. I never thought I would say that about Oliver, but he really looks as if he means what he is saying… unless he is manipulating and mind controlling me. But, no. that's impossible – I'm too clever and alert for that!

"Who did it?" Oliver asks, handing the coffee cup over to me and waving a hand as I make to pay him. I suppose the gossip is good enough for him – at the minute.

"They believe that it was her brother; when I'm finished here, I'm going to go over to the police station and try and find out some more information," I explain, my eyes lowering to hide my anger. I mean, for god's sake! He is her brother; he isn't supposed to try and kill her! They may not have gotten along very well (her putting him in jail won't have helped at all, I don't think) but that doesn't mean that _he could go and shoot her!_

"Come through to my office, Claire, I need to talk to you," he says seriously, sounding just like I was when I was discussing Eve and her condition. No matter how much I don't want to follow him, I have to: the bracelet seems to be pulling me along in the wake of its master – he isn't my master, even if he is my 'owner' – so I sigh and walk through. "Close the door," he instructs me, a slight bit of humour evident in his voice for some apparent reason. I don't know why – this can't be anything funny, can it? – but I am not going to question someone who I _know_ to be the most dangerous vampire in Morganville; Amelie isn't anything! She didn't rescue my Shane, risking death, something that only a dangerous vampire would do incase they were caught. No, she didn't do anything to help the world or the people here… she is just a fraud.

I cannot help but be in awe of her, and feel some sort of kin with her – I can relate to her thoughts somehow, and recognise the situation she is in, even though I have never been there myself. No, I do respect her… just recent actions haven't made me think this way towards her much.

I settle down in the chair in front of Oliver and hesitate as he leans forwards. He places his elbows on the desk and presses his chin into his hands, frowning slightly. The such _human_ gesture makes me relax a little, although my brain is telling me that you don't do that in the devil's lair, do you?

"I have made enquiries in the university in order to change your classes to a harder level," he shocks me by saying. I cannot believe that he is actually bothered about the fact that my classes are _way _too easy for me – it just seems as if he has had a personality transplant! "I believe that you have already completed the harder level science core classes, so the Dean recommends that you take your lab classes and then other subjects so that you can have two degrees when you leave."

"What subjects are on offer?" I ask, not sure if there'll be any restrictions on this. If Oliver wants, I can be studying some martial art even though it's against my wishes. He owns me, body and soul, so he gets to make the executive decision. It's a good thing that he's even considering letting me choose what subjects there are.

"I could choose for you, but I find Protection works better when the Protectee is offered a choice - to a certain extent - on what they do," he sort of fills me with a little confidence about the choices. "You have to choose four of these: maths, English literature at night, UK history, geography, French, Spanish, German and law. Personally, I would stay away from the law since it is rather mundane, I having the personal experience, as is Spanish, with the three past tenses and being the only language of the three choices to have a present continuous tense. Yet it is your decision," he shrugs, but I had a little trouble following. So of the eight, I have to choose four?

"Why is English literature taught at night?" I ask, a sinking feeling in my stomach indicating I most probably know the answer: books aren't limited to the night.

"It is taught by a vampire," Oliver says simply, confirming by beliefs. "Yet the teacher is Samuel Glass - Michael's Grandfather. It is a small class and he only accepts absolutely well behaved vampires for the odd human resident who decides to learn from him. I hear good reports from it," he continues - wow, Michael's Grandad is a teacher! I heard he was a 'good' vamp, but nothing more: Michael's never really spoken about him and I don't think he wants to.

"Ok then... Well, I choose English lit, French, UK history and German," I say rashly, deciding that this could be a good chance to get to know Sam without any influence from Michael over his feelings that his Grandad has been a vampire since before he was born. I know a little of the two languages from school, which is helpful, and since I've always wanted to go to England what with the incredible history it has had, I may as well study that! Maths has always bored me, as has geography, and I am heeding Oliver's warnings on the other two! That is something I never thought I'd be able to say without feeling as if I was being sarcastic, but it is the truth right now.

"That is a very good choice, Claire, I shall put that in for you tomorrow," he says, and somehow his words remind me that Eve is still in hospital _and here I am, getting excited over school lessons! _She may never wake up and I'm going whoopdedoo regarding getting to study the Tudors… I disgust myself sometimes.

"Can I go now?" I ask him in a pleading tone.

He stands up and walks around the desk to me, pulling me up in one fluid movement. Oh my god, what is going on? Why is he making me stand up? Is he, like, going to kill me or do something to me? Oh god, please help me!

His lips press to mine and I push as hard as I can against his hard chest as his arms pull me closer to him, but he doesn't budge an inch. He, instead, seems to simply get more into the kiss… and I'm embarrassed to say but my lips kiss him back. Oh my god, _why is he kissing me_? God, I don't know why but it's horrib—oh, this is rather nice…

I begin to kiss him back and realise that he is rather nice to kiss… it isn't disgusting; it's pleasant…

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_Oliver's POV:_

She had me worried for a minute then, when she tried to fight me off, but then I realised that it was simply her normal, fighting, self… that is, however, until she submits (inside her brain) to my power and dominance over her and begins to kiss me back. Once she has submitted, the part of her that thinks kissing me is disgusting seems to disappear and she simply admires the brilliance of my kissing and gets herself deeper into it.

_I lov- _NO! Do not go there, Oliver, as otherwise you may find it hard to get her to do what you have to get her to do! She doesn't feel anything for you; she simply thinks she does because she admires the kissing skills you have _when she is under your control_!

I pull away abruptly, wrenching my tongue from her mouth, and she pouts as her arms wrap themselves round my waist as she removes them from my hair.

"Why did you do that?" she asks, in a dreamy tone that shows she is still under my control.

"I have a mission for you," I say, breathing heavily since I had to pull away when I was so enjoying myself. "You have three days to complete the making of this device. It then _must_ be planted in the City Hall on Saturday evening, when every single person is in the Founders Square for the party. The trigger must be sophisticated and look as if a professional has made it, rather than a child. It must be rigged to go off at _exactly_ 4:45pm, not a minute earlier. Do you understand?" I stress the point about detail and accuracy.

"What am I making?" she asks, confused. Oh! I forgot to actually tell her what to make.

"You," I say separately, stressing the point here once again. "Are going to be making… a bomb," I leave it on a slight 'cliffhanger' for the impact to hit her.

Unfortunately, given the fact that she is under my control, she doesn't waver at the strangeness of this request or question the _specific _detailing of it.

She simply smiles and nods without a word, willing to do this without a single word of complaint.

This is what _everyone_ needs!

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**So, betcha thought that since the whole action with Eve thing happened over the last few chapters that there'd be a little lull inbetween that and the next peak of excitement, right? Well WRONG! I decided that this story needs to be fast paced and edgy… and with the new idea I've just had for another twist, you will SERIOUSLY be expecting frantic and such!**

**So, yep, review please! 5 reviews and I will run the competition again! It's EASY! REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!**

**Vicky xx**

**P.S... I have rather a lot of stories and I have the horribleness of exams starting in TWO WEEKS (ARGH!) so if I don't update, I'm not dead... I'M ACTUALLY REVISING :(**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13:**

**I wrote this on my old phone on the way home from Barcelona, but I accidentally deleted it ****so I am going to rewrite it and hope that it is as good as it was originally! (I have managed to remember entire chunks of it even though I wrote it throughout watching 7 films on the coach… photographic memory here hehe!)**

***SPRITESINGER - thank you for helping me with this chapter, though I doubt you realise you did! Also, you should recognise some of this from me and Becky when we were moaning about history :P***

**OK... well... I was disappointed with last chapter - THREE reviews? That's it? Still... I love what happens in like chapter 15, so I'm updating!**

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_Claire's POV:_

I know what I have to do; I have to make a bomb to destroy the City Hall with the specific instructions. I know I have to do this, that there is an important reason _somewhere_ in my mind for why I decided that this was a necessary course of action, though it has escaped my mind presently.

There is so much to do before Saturday, but Eve is coming first in my mind right now. I can drop by to the police station on my way back to the hospital and spend some time with her before Michael wakes up and comes to take my shift. When nightfall comes around, I can then return home and work on my masterpiece… I don't want it to look childish, so I can study some of my findings from when the Provisional IRA bombarded Northern Ireland with their bombs and then use the sophisticated triggers as an influence on how I make my own. This will _not_ be a childish thing; this will be the proper thing that works just to how I want it to…

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_Oliver's POV:_

I could see in her face that she felt concern for Eve, that she worried for her even a little. That is a little more than she should be when she is under my control… she isn't supposed to feel anything other than what I _want_ her to feel! I need to refine my techniques, to ensure, from now on with the more crucial parts of this operation, that she is entirely under my control when I need her to be. I shall need to think up new methods of seduction, including popping around (when Michael is out) to 'top up' on my control of her, to ensure that she remains entirely focused on the task… well, focused enough so that it doesn't cause suspicion with the grandson of the poor lover of Amelie that Claire isn't concerned about Eve in hospital or her boyfriend being missing. Urgh… just thinking of Shane Collins makes my cold blood boil – why, I do not know.

_Ring ring, ring ring, _the phone goes off with a buzz, and I pick it up lazily after a few rings, a sneaky feeling in my stomach that I know _just_ who this is.

"Hello," I say in a bored tone, and find that my suspicions are correct.

"Oliver, there is a Council meeting in fifteen minutes in the Council Buildings," Amelie informs me coolly, not bothering with a hello. "_Do_ be on time, it is rather important," she continues before hanging up the phone. We never exchange pleasantries about _how_ nice it is to hear from the other because, honestly, we never want to speak. I want Morganville, she wants me dead – at the current moment in time, we are in an impasse… but not for much longer.

At a leisurely human pace, I find my car keys and head towards the back door to Common Grounds. Using the portal is a motion which I find isn't _best_ used when I am around Amelie, since she does not know I even know of their existence, much less how to use them. No, I do not know _how_ she came to make these wormholes, albeit I have a gut feeling, but for her to know I know how to use them wouldn't exactly help my case much here, would it. No, therefore car it is.

I park in the underground car park, pulling into one of the 'Elders' spaces, before heading for the over sized room Amelie _insists_ on using for council meetings. I know it is simply so she can ascertain her power over me and the rest of them, with the room being full of relics of her and her victorious past, but I personally find it ridiculous. She is being vain and possessive, showing this side of her by insisting on showing off… but the selfish side of her nature has came out over the last half century, with her and that poor Samuel Glass. He doesn't know what he let himself in for, loving Amelie… she has to keep him close enough so that he doesn't move on, but far enough away that she has _complete_ control in the relationship and decides as and when to use him. I suppose love must have formed the bond but that love disappitated a long time ago for her, leaving her a cold and disgusting woman to use a man like that. She truly has nothing good left inside of her, therefore she must be destroyed.

She wants everything she can, and she destroys it, or will destroy it, when she gets her hands on it: Morganville, Sam, Claire… I didn't mean that last one. I simply wanted a list of three to make it sound better in my head; at least, I think I did. I better have had done, because otherwise that could spell disaster for my plan to get Morganville. I have worked too hard on this plan for it to fail now… no, now it is time for the council meeting.

"Oliver, good of you to make it _before_ the next world war," Amelie snaps at me as soon as I enter the room and I feel the slight difference in the air. She is slightly fearful and angry at what happened –the humans here (Mayor and Richard Morrell) will be unable to see the subtle difference in her face but I can – and the air is a little chillier with her reinforcing her power in the town.

"Actually, I don't think there _is_ going to be another world war," I retort lightly, remaining standing as I challenge her. Nobody has done this to her – in the sight of a human, at least – in hundreds of years and she simply stares at me for a good five seconds before replying.

"And to think that you lived out in the human world for so many years," she finally says, before her expression turns cooler and harder. Her fangs sink down as her eyes flash silver, dangerously. "You must have missed the way that our country stormed in after the USA to Afghanistan and then followed them, on George Bush's belief that there were weapons of mass destruction, to Iraq, causing years of devastation and bringing the Taliban out even further. Did you miss the way that this country tries to pin _everything_ it does on revenge for the twin towers attack? And have you managed to read the papers recently, or watch the news, about the Middle East, Africa, where Tunisia began the civil wars and then it was continued on by Egypt, Libya and goodness knows how many other countries. If this is a peaceful world, Oliver, or at least more peaceful than the 1940's, I would like to see you argue it," she continues, lecturing me for a good minute on events I _definitely_ know about. The humans sink down in their seats slightly, unsure what to do in this situation with two of the eldest vampires arguing.

I shrug slightly before sitting down in the chair to her right, as her second in command. She seems unsure of what I am doing, and simply ignores me for a moment before I speak. But I don't speak to her; instead, I address the chief of police, Richard Morrell, only because I know it will rile her. "So, do we know what has happened with the Rosser boy?"

"Yes, _do_ tell us, Richard," Amelie snaps at him, angered for what I did.

He seems unhappy at being put in the middle of two quarrelling vampires who have _never_ seen eye to eye, but seems keen to give up the knowledge he has so he can get the hell out of here. He is a smart boy; perhaps one day, the mayor of this town… that is, of course, if he accepts me as his new leader.

"He insists that he didn't do anything whatsoever and that his gun was stolen," Richard says sharply, his speech to the point. "He also professes, and has done throughout the ten hours of questioning, that he was simply 'hanging around' outside their house, even though it was after curfew. That's all we have gotten so far, ma'am," he address Amelie rather than me, and a surge of anger goes through me before I control it. This makes me realise something; Jason was outside of the house – he was found near the crime scene. This shows how they obviously aren't going to be looking at Claire, the _real_ attacker, because why would she attack her best friend with her best friend's brother's gun? She wouldn't… that is the reason why I got her to do that in the first place.

"Very well… I believe that it is the end of the road for the human justice system and time for him to come under my scrutiny," Amelie says slowly, decisively.

"Impossible, Amelie," I say in a sing song voice, mocking her innocent and sweet sounding voice entirely. She shoots me daggers, one of her many looks that would kill a human, but lets me continue without a word but simply a 'move along' hand gesture. "I believe in the amended constitution, the entire point of allowing the humans to manage their own justice system was so that they were 'equals' as far as possible in this town, and so that they had fair justice. You taking on the case of an attempted murderer – not successful, as of yet – isn't exactly following that, is it?" I point out the major flaw in her plan and she rolls her eyes. The humans realise that I have a point, and dubiously support me.

"Not that it is _any_ of your business, since _I_ am the Founder and the ruler around here, not _you_, but there are reasons why I should take on this case," she says, her voice betraying her immense anger at being contradicted. I wouldn't want to be _her_ maid when she is finished here… oh no, I have a feeling the china will be thrown, as it was all those years ago in Milan. "Firstly, it occurred in a vampire's home… the intended target could have been Michael or even Claire, your _Protectee_," she sneers the word, as if she has realised that I managed to trick Claire into signing with me. It takes all of my self control not to babble out my plans, and simply continue to stare into her cool, grey eyes, sighing internally.

"Well, dubious last reason but I see your reasoning," I do agree with her here, and at least we can get rid of Jason without him managing to convince the police that he really wasn't there; humans are _such_ gullible creatures nowadays, even when the accused is someone like Jason Rosser.

"Gentlemen, you may leave," Amelie says curtly, addressing the Morrell men. They stand and nod at her before walking to the door. I stand to join them before she says, "Oliver, I didn't mean _you_. I hardly class you as a gentleman anyways."

"If my lady wishes me to stay, of _course_ I shall do," I say curtly, irony at the beginning of the sentence. Her power washes over me, quashing my flames inside, to show just who is in charge.

_Not for long, Amelie, not for long…_

"I shall get straight to the point," she says, and I grin before cutting in. I love this, being able to grin when doing something so evil…

"Oh, so it isn't going to be like your usual ramblings, such as the one from earlier?" I say, raising my eyebrows. She simply ignores me, being the 'better person' or whatever they teach kids nowadays in the schooling system.

"What do you want with Claire?" she actually gets to the point in less than ten words, which is a miracle for her. But the question scares me… I don't know how I should answer this; do I say something about her college grades or her blood or something along those lines? I haven't a clue, but I know that I need to say something otherwise she will become suspicious.

"I wanted someone powerful under my Protection, so that I can harness her power when she is older," I partially tell the truth, skipping out the part where I am harnessing her powers _now_…

"I want her," she says simply, once again beating the ten words… no she managed to get to the point in _three words_!

"No, she is mine," I reply flatly, fangs sinking and eyes turning red to show my property and claim. "I own her, and I have decided that it is always _much_ more fun, playing cards with the ace in your deck," I continue, smiling slightly.

"Why _ever_ the need to bring in such crude gambling references, Oliver?" she asks, exasperated. "I distinctly remember you struggling with your gambling in the past, but I didn't think it was still as bad," she smiles sweetly, and I strike back, barely controlling my anger.

"Oh, but you have shown me how you want her, and it shows to me how I have something which is so valuable to you," I grin, making the smile drop off her face as she processes this. "And I am much better for her than you would be, Amelie."

"How do you work that out?" she asks, inquisitive although she is trying to hide it.

I stand up and walk towards the door, knowing one way to get to her finally as well as revealing what I have done for Claire.

"I have provided her college courses which are much more advanced and in line for her skills – and I allowed her to choose them herself," I say softly, menace in my voice. "And guess what, Amelie? She will be getting to spend _lots_ of time with your lover… you know, the one you decided to leave for no reason?" I smile widely at this, noting how her face pales to less than bone white.

"Get. Out. Now," she hisses at me, unable to control the spasms of pain and such splurging across her face as she processes what I said.

"With pleasure… _au revoir_, Amelie," I repeat in the singsong voice from earlier, opening the thick wooden door and disappearing through it, slamming it on my way out.

All in all, it isn't such a bad day so far!

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**So, I'd appreciate it if you tell me what you think… I seem to have forgotten some chunks (where they go) but the chapter is about 700 words longer than before (approximately, since word count doesn't exist on a nokia e63… but I HAVE A SAMSUNG GALAXY S NOW XD) so I hope you don't mind…**

**Please review! Lots of reviews = update!**

**Vicky xx**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14:**

**So… I own nothing and I hope you enjoy the new chapter! I had an entire week of exams (lots of write-y ones) and I'm BEAT! Lol... but chem went well today, so this is the new chappy, as promised for today!**

**Oh, and yeah, btw, this isn't going to be an 'M' rated fic, it'll stay as 'T' simply because I don't want to write an 'M' one…**

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_Claire's POV (normal Claire):_

"Help, someone help me!" a voice screams from inside the burning building, but I can't do anything. My eyes are streaming from the smoke exposure and the constant screams are destroying me – I can't do anything to help. I can only sit here and listen to their dying, in extreme agony. I can only listen to their last few moments on this earth as they die, humans and vampires alike.

I stand up from the steps in front of the burning building and wrap the blanket tighter around my body, the silk dress doing nothing for me in the night. I look around for Michael, Miranda, _someone _who I know, just to have the chance to be comforted. But there isn't anyone. I don't recognise _anyone_ around – it's all the emergency services, searching for injured people, tending to those who they have, lining the dead up in a row beneath the building which is still ablaze.

Shane; I want Shane. I need Shane, but he is on the run. He left me. I need someone right now and he isn't here.

A bomb. A bomb went off in the middle of the party at City Hall, the party for the Founder, the party which she organised. Someone tried to kill her – after all, this is the only time of the year that she is _guaranteed_ to be in one place at one time, according to Michael – but they failed. She left already, fifteen minutes or so before the bomb as someone had some important information for her.

Unfortunately, the others, including me, didn't have the same chance of escape.

The number of people who are injured, I don't know. The number of people who are dead seems to be increasing every minute, as another voice goes quiet in the building. All I want is to know who did this, who tried to kill everyone… but I can't do anything.

After all, I'm a human.

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_Claire's POV (under Ollie's influence… btw, here, she still doesn't know that she shot Eve) – three days earlier:_

I put the finishing touches to the trigger system I have been making for the three hours, smiling as I realise it is the _exact_ replica of the one in Northern Ireland. It truly is perfect and will work wonders when I set it to go off in the middle of the party at City Hall. Of course, I need to finish making the bomb to go with it – no point having a trigger which has nothing to set off!

But that isn't the plan for right now – no, I need to go and see Eve. I went to the police station the other day, after I saw Oliver, but they refused to tell me anything. Whilst my concern for her seems to have dropped, as I have gotten more and more into this mission, I know that I need to appear as if I am only concerned for her, to keep appearances up. Michael could already be getting suspicious and he most certainly is keeping a closer eye on me since I am the only one in the house along with him.

I lock the trigger away in the cupboard, so that incase someone came snooping they couldn't find it, and grab my bag before walking down the stairs. There is no movement in the house but the way that Michael's door is firmly closed signals he is asleep so I creep down the stairs. Here, I put on my shoes and open the door silently before shutting it behind me with a soft _click_, running down the path and towards the hospital.

"Hey, Eve, how are you?" I ask her sleeping form as I enter the room in which she still lies. I don't know who shot her, but I could kill them, even as the focus of making a bomb creeps to the forefront of my mind. Yet I push it back for the couple of hours I will spend here – I need to talk to my best friend about Shane, the boy who is still on the run somewhere.

"And, you see, I've been having these strange dreams about Oliver… or I've been thinking about him… it's been strange – I've been imagining him and wanting to kiss him," I reveal the strangeness of what I have been thinking before realising that I really think it still sounds rather nice. It sounds enchanting… "I'm confused, but I feel as if Oliver is where my life is leading and I don't know what to do…"

"Visiting hours are over for now, Miss Danvers," the doctor pops into the room and breaks my rhetorical brooding, since there is no way that I could possibly get an answer from Eve…

So I leave the hospital and return home to eat lunch, all the while contemplating just what to put in this bomb to make it the most effective it can be…

* * *

_Two days before the bomb – same Claire as above…_

"Oliver, what are you _doing_ here?" I ask him in confusion as to why he is here, in the Glass House, without any notice. It's a good thing Michael is out because if he found Oliver here, he would go _ballistic_!

"Hush, Claire, I simply need to speak with you," Oliver whispers, pushing me backwards into my bedroom from the hallway. It's the middle of the night but I heard a noise which prompted me to check what was there (it's _scary_ being in such an old and creaky house alone) so I went out, just to find Oliver waiting outside of my door.

"Seriously, why are you here?" I ask, not _unhappy_ for him being here, because he always seems to bring me happiness, but confused why.

"To do this," he responds, before leaning over. I get even more confused for a moment as he pulls me closer to him by my shoulders before kissing me full on the lips. I fight him for a few seconds, as my brain asks me _what_ he is doing, until I remember that I love this, that this is the best part of my life when he kisses me.

I pull myself in further to him, linking my hands around his neck as I try to get his head to sink down further to my level, so I don't have to stretch as much. A low growl is evident in his throat as his tongue slips into my mouth and I kiss him as hard as I can, shutting my eyes as the moment hits me.

I don't know how long this lasts, but I find my hands running over his chest, yanking it out of his trousers as I want him. Then I snatch him backwards, he actually moving since we are so attached, and he leans me backwards onto the bed, kissing me more and more.

His mouth moves to my throat and begins to lay little kisses along my jaw line as I moan in ecstasy. I'm about to suggest something else when he suddenly yanks himself off me, throwing himself against the wall. I sit upright and notice his eyes have gone bright crimson and his fangs have sunk down.

"No!" he growls to himself, as I can barely hear him. "This isn't the time… no, later," he continues, before moving back closer to me and lifting me upright. I stare up into his face, watching as the anger fades to grim determination. "Claire, remember your mission. Forget Eve and Michael – focus _entirely_ on what you are to do. Do you understand?" he presses and I sigh, unhappy that he rejected me when I so wanted him.

"Yes, I understand," I say, but he forces my chin up again to make me look in his eyes directly. Something in them causes me to go dreamy and _every_ thought of concern for Eve and everything else drifts away – the only thing I am concerned with is Oliver and the bomb. He is like some sort of drug for me. I need him. I need him all the time… it's like he has controlled my mind and got me obsessed with him.

"Goodnight, Claire, you need your sleep in preparation for your work," he says, pressing my lips to my forehead. They're like glass, hard and cold, but I shiver at his touch, wanting more and more. Suddenly, he disappears from the room and leaves me alone, longing for him.

But then I decide to entirely focus on this bomb because if it makes Oliver happy… I guess it will make me happy as well…

Yet he returns.

He comes back for me… or at least, that's what I think. In his arms, he holds a huge box, cream in colour, and proffers it out to me. "It's for you, to wear at the Founder's party on Saturday," he says, slightly awkwardly, as if he is trying to sort something out in his mind. "Goodnight," he says sharply before rushing from the room instantly.

This time, he doesn't come back.

* * *

_The day of the bomb – 11am:_

The party is getting entirely set up, due to be commencing at 3pm: it's early for the Founder's party, but because of the darkness of the sky, it has been deemed acceptable to begin it earlier than usual.

I slip around the many workers in the building, many carrying different flower arrangements and huge things – I won't be noticed in amongst these. The bomb is in my bag, small and very compact, and I wonder just _where_ will be the best place for me to place it? It can't be somewhere obvious because the workers could accidentally take it away with them but I want it to be easy to place because rummaging around in the wall is going to attract at least a _little_ attention.

So where should I put it?

I glance around the room, my eyes calculating where I could put this bomb for it to cause the maximum damage and I spot it. It's an alcove, just to the side of the main doorways – that may not _seem_ the best place, but I can assure that if the bomb goes off there, the front of the building is the thing that falls. Also, as the door is there, it will cause maximum damage as people just can't escape, thus meaning the purpose of the bomb is fulfilled and to the utmost level.

As if I am simply looking around, I move over to the alcove and spot a slight niche where I can put it – the wooden flower holder has a large amount of room in it, room which I can fill with this bomb. Trust Amelie to have put flowers in the corner where nobody will be – but it is useful, her perfectionism. It has meant I have found the perfect place to put the bomb…

Smiling that my job is complete, I return home to get ready, planning on wearing whatever Oliver gave me…

* * *

_Later on…_

"Wow, you look… fantastic," Michael stammers as his eyebrows rise whilst he takes in my appearance. I curled my hair and pinned the front back in a timeless style, whilst the burnt orange dress I am wearing highlights my skin colour. It is floor length and has matching shoes which add to my petite height – but only slightly. After all, I don't want to be getting caught up in the bomb, do I? My makeup is minimalistic and entirely understated – I don't want to be the attention grabber of the room now, do I?

"You look great," I tell him honestly, admiring his sharp edges in the black tux he is wearing. He smiles slightly before reverting back to the moody and withdrawn character he has been since Eve was shot, heading to loiter by the door as he waits for me.

I slide my phone into my clutch bag along with my purse and lipgloss before nodding at him to indicate I'm ready to go. He jumps straight out of the door and down the path, waiting for me at the end of the path to ensure that I don't get killed by a vampire on the way to the party. I'm one of only a few humans going and it's rather daunting but I need to go, apparently. It's been coming for a long time, but I have never felt less like a party. Well… I think that the vampires are allowed to bring human dates, something which most of them will probably take up, even if just to be able to bite them…

"We'll be late if we don't get going now," Michael says, taking my arm and leading me to his vampire car, helping me into the passenger seat with a slither of the old Michael back. He's back in the car and already driving away before I've even got my seatbelt on – something which I definitely need when I can't even see out of the window!

We park outside of City Hall, Founder's Square's luscious patch of grass covered in cars (vampire) with the occupants all heading for the party. Michael takes my arm and leads me over to the Hall, making sure that the watching vampires know both that I am with him and that Oliver is my Protector… Oliver… I need to speak with him…

We enter the party and soon notice that everyone is spreading apart, for the arrival of someone special. I'm assuming that this must be Amelie arriving.

She looks as if she is going to a fancy dinner… which I guess this sort of is. Her blonde hair is tied back in a tight bun, jewelled clips adorning her hair, and her dress is a swishy material, the colour of ice. It is low cut but still classy, showing off assets rather than appearing slutty and she looks entirely at ease in the situation here, enjoying the attention.

"Welcome to the two hundredth Founder's Ball!" she greets everyone, her cool demeanour actually adding to her regality, rather than making her seem this cold bitch that I know she is. She sentenced Shane to death – it was only Oliver's strength of nature to release him that saved him from the death penalty. "I trust you will all enjoy yourselves, so enjoy the party!" she continues, bringing about respectful applause at the end of this.

The party breaks up into smaller groups of 'friends' and Michael stays with me as we head to talk to his Grandfather. His eyes (Sam) are always on Amelie, watching to make sure that another vampire doesn't try and flirt with her. This makes it easier to watch to see what happens – will she be staying or will she have left before the bomb goes off?

"Michael, it's good to see you," Sam greets him, hugging him in greeting before doing the same to me. I'm slightly surprised at this but then again, perhaps it is normal behaviour when you meet the grandparent of your friend. "Claire, I trust that I shall be seeing you in class starting next week? I have to agree that you are much better off with me as your teacher than that Mr Sinise. He isn't exactly the most _enthralling_ English Lit teacher I've ever met," he says to me with a grin.

"It'll be great… I just hope that you can make me realise the wonders of Shakespeare as no other teacher has managed to succeed with that yet," I grin and he grimaces slightly before nodding.

"Every pupil of mine has always had a deep appreciation for Shakespeare by the end, as well as every other writer I teach about," he informs me, once again grinning. He reminds me of Michael when he looks like this… but what? _Amelie is leaving!_

It's exactly 4:25pm and she is leaving the party! Well _damn_, that means that she won't be caught in the bomb. Still, I don't actually know if she is the intended target, so let's just leave it.

"If you will excuse me," Sam says, his gaze firmly locked on Amelie's retreating figure, her back showing a delicate appearance to her. He darts off after her, staying a careful distance away and as I turn to look at Michael, he has disappeared as well. Yay! I'm in a party for vampires as a human, and I'm without an escort. I guess it's going to be first one to reach me, gets me!

"Claire, I need to speak with you," Oliver's voice is low in my ear as he grabs hold of my shoulders, spinning me towards the door. I don't argue or complain, simply remember the last time he held me like this, and go with him towards the main doors, heading out into the middle of the car parking earlier.

"What is it?" I ask him, wondering whether he wants to kiss me again. His gaze turns searching and I blush slightly as he seems to see right through to my skin.

"You look utterly divine in that dress," he murmurs before turning his eyes on me, making me forget everything…

_Back to normal Claire…_

Ok… why am I out here, with Oliver? I remember… oh, _damn_! I seem to have been struck with this memory bug again since I can't remember much at all… it's Saturday, so I'm guessing that we're at the Founder's Ball, but why we're outside, alone, I don't know.

"What are we doing here, Oliver?" I ask him, my voice shaking slightly as I remember Michael's words of warning. Don't cross Oliver, or dare to contradict him.

"I simply wished to inform you that your new college timetable begins next week and here is a copy of the new timetable – as you can see, the days before you have English Lit you have no exams in the afternoon and the day _of_ the class, you only have afternoon classes – so you can get enough sleep," he says to me, sounding almost _caring_. Surely that's wrong though!

"Um… thanks, I guess," I say, indicating the paper which I slip into my bag. I turn away and shake my head slightly at the absurdity by which he would take me out of a party to give me a timetable… oh god, where is Eve? I haven't thought about her in god knows how long – is she ok? I need to go see her, and quickly. But I need to get Michael first from the party; surely he will take me!

"Claire," Oliver's voice is almost lazy in the way that he orders me back, and I grit my teeth at the way he expects me to be his puppy dog, turning and doing as he wants every second of every day.

"Yes, Oliver?" I barely manage to stop myself snapping at him as I turn around to see his aged self, preserved forever in vampire form. Well, as long as a vampire lives…

"Be careful – I believe you could do this town much good," he surprises me by saying. I roll my eyes before turning away with a nod before… "GET DOWN!" he yells, launching himself at me, knocking me to the floor…

… at the same time, a huge fireball erupts into the air… City Hall. The City Hall has blown up… a huge wave of power rolls around the neighbouring area and I feel the wall of heat, thankful that Oliver threw himself on top of me – if I had been standing, I'd have been at least unconscious from the pressure.

There is an eerie silence for a moment before the front wall just _collapses_. It's been blown up. City Hall has been firebombed.

The screams start. People screaming for help, including vampires who are trapped and can't move. Fires roar in the holes but Oliver doesn't let me up.

Someone has blown up City Hall.

And people are dying…

* * *

**Sorry it jumped around so much – I just thought that if you wanted the full lead up to the bomb and such, it would work better in like this format xD**

**So, yeah, next chapter will sort of be continuing from the very beginning of the chapter, when she is sat on the steps.**

**Pwiddy pwease review! You know I will love you *forever* if you do!**

**Vicky xx**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15:**

**Thanks for the reviews :) **

**urgh, ought to start history revision for Tuesday (and the fact I missed the knowledge based stuff because I chose to go on the Barcelona trip isn't a good thing) but I cannot be bothered...**

**Hope you enjoy this chapter**

**I don't own anything.**

* * *

_Oliver's POV:_

She carried out my instructions _perfectly._ In fact, it was almost _too_ perfect – she caused more destruction than I thought would be possible from a bomb prepared in three days because she planted it in the best place possible… it seems Claire has a terrorist inside of her.

And now the town is in chaos, Amelie is stressed because she thinks the bomb was for her and that the bomber was not aware of her sudden plans to leave and my plan is coming together.

Stage three can commence shortly. But first, it is time to allow Claire a little _normality_… even if it hurts me to be away from her. When I kissed her in her room, I almost lost control of my plan and just wanted to be _with_ her. I almost gave up my plan for her; when, in fact, what I was going to do can only happen much later in the proceedings for _power_, not pleasure.

But Claire… well done!

* * *

_Claire's POV:_

"Michael!" I scream his name as loud as I can, desperate for him to come around the corner and be safe, for him to hold me in his arms and tell me that everything is alright. Where is Sam? Where is everyone in that damned building? "Where are you?" I continue to shout for him, dodging emergency service workers who keep bringing out people on stretchers, taking some to the lines of dead and some to the ambulances to be whisked to hospital.

"Claire, are you alright?" Travis Lowe asks me as he wraps another blanket around me to replace the one I shed. "It will be ok; everything will be ok," he comforts me, pulling me in for a hug as I begin to sob and sob.

"How will it?" I say rhetorically. "City Hall has been bombed! Who is inside? Who's dead? Who is in charge here? Oh god… _Richard was in there_!" I realise with a start, fighting to get over there because it's _Richard_! He's in charge of everything here – he can't have died!

"Richard has been taken to hospital – he's in surgery for emergency heart work," Lowe reveals grimly. "I'm in charge here. so I want you to go and wait over there for me, ok? I can't make you leave as I'm guessing you want to wait to find Michael, but just relax, ok? it isn't as bad as it looks," he continues but I can tell he is lying. It's _worse_ than it looks. I nod slowly, knowing that he needs to get back into the swing of things in his rescue mission in order to save more people: this is the first time I have considered the vampires to be_ people _but they are the ones who are dying as well... it isn't just the humans this time.

So I sit on the step and wring my hands, throwing my little bag to the side until I remember my phone. Michael _must_ have had his phone - perhaps I could try and ring him!

My trembling fingers scroll down to his name and I take a deep breath before pressing the big green button.

The dial tone happens before it rings and rings...

... And I get his answer phone.

Just hearing his warm voice in the answer message makes me realise that I am alone here - he is missing and could be dead, Eve is on life support and Shane... Shane could be _anywhere_ and I wouldn't have a fricking clue. I don't have anyone - the one morsel of company I had when the bomb went off was Oliver and he left here a _long _time ago to get to the Elder's Council where presumably Amelie is... And the injured vamps - wouldn't be a good idea having them in a hospital with freely bleeding humans, now, would it?

I feel anxious all over again and so keep ringing Michael's phone to just be able to hear his voice.

That is, until an extremely frustrated Amelie answers it.

"Will you_ please_ stop ringing this phone?" she asks but I get the feeling that it isn't optional. "I would have thought a supposedly clever girl such as yourself would be able to tell that if someone doesn't answer after_ fifteen_ calls, they are doubtful to answer the sixteenth either!"

Something about her tone, _her_, makes me want to snap. I remember that she was the one who ordered Shane to the death. I remember she left the party early, most likely on purpose, so the bomb that was _probably _for her didn't get its intended target - just innocent bystanders... Even though the vamps killed aren't exactly innocent. But none of them deserved to get _blown up!_

But I take a deep breath and stop myself from insulting her because I guess she does have a lot on her plate... and I'm guessing that to insult Amelie would be one of the last things I do right now.

"Do you know where Michael is, ma'am?" I address her politely, hoping that the excessive politeness will make her more likely to answer me.

"He is here, obviously," she snaps back. "Before you say anything, no, you can't come here unless you wish to be a donor for my injured people. That is, of course, your choice but I think your..._ Protector_ may have a problem with that," she finishes and I get the idea that she doesn't like how I signed with Oliver. Yet if she 'wanted me', she should have offered first. And perhaps _she shouldn't have sentenced Shane to death._ After she did that, there was no chance of me doing _anything_ that required optionally spending time with her slash doing her bidding.

"Is it possible for me to speak with Michael?" I ask softly, hoping that she will hand the phone over - but why didn't he answer originally? That's a worrying point… surely he would have answered himself if he could.

"I haven't time to deal with your petty requests and problems - my people are _dying _faster than they should and they have been murdered!" she says this sharply before hanging the phone up with a bang.

Well, she was polite! I can see why people hate her - she isn't exactly endearing to those she speaks to, is she? But what do I do? I now know Michael is no longer in City Hall - how he got out, I don't know - so I needn't wait around. Should I ignore Amelie and just go to the council building specifically for the vampires or should I go home and wait for Michael there?

Option three: call Oliver and ask if _he _will get Michael to speak with me. It's not like Michael can be seriously injured because that would leave me pretty much alone. I couldn't cope with that, being the only one of the four of us left, especially with me being the newest of our party.

"Oliver, can I speak to Michael?" I desperately ask as soon as he answers his phone, not even bothering with a hello.

He chuckles softly but it sounds strained, as if he doesn't really believe in it. That's worrying; if the situation is so bad that bad ass _Oliver_ is worried, we're all screwed. "Claire, he is injured… the only benefit you could give him right now is your blood," he tells me honestly, and I clench my fist.

"If I come down to the council building, would it be possible to give blood without being killed?" I request, feeling some sort of responsibility for Michael being injured but not being sure why. It was sheer luck that Oliver and I were outside when the bomb went off… otherwise I would definitely be dead, if Michael is obviously extremely injured.

Oliver is stunned into obvious silence – a first! But he seems to be calculating before finally replying. "Ok," he says, sounding surprised that I would give my blood up to a _vampire_. But it's Michael: I need him alive and if the only way is giving blood, I will do it. "I can protect you… but you must stay close to me, Claire. They are very injured and the younger ones aren't given blood, as it is in age order – Michael will be a worthy recipient of your blood," he continues, and I shudder. If I wasn't doing this for him, he wouldn't be getting any blood. That's just favouritism… but it's also how humans work. In society, if there is something to be given out (for example, a flu jab), the elderly are given it first, as they are weaker… I guess it isn't the _exact_ same in this situation but it is close enough.

"I'll be over in about five minutes," I say before hanging the phone up in the same manner as Amelie did. Then I begin dodging the emergency workers who continue to bring injured and dead people from the building, now that the fires are finally out, and head across Founder's Square to where the Elder's Council building is…

As soon as you begin to get near to it, you can see the calamity. Every single injured vampire is here, some 'walking wounded' loitering by the door because they can't get in. Oliver is waiting for me outside, baring his fangs at the wounded who make to go for me as I walk up to them. I try to exude an air of confidence that I don't really feel because I know that showing them weakness only makes them more likely to attack.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Oliver confirms with me, sounding almost concerned. Then he continues, "You will have to do a lot for me over the next few days, in order to help sort out this disaster, and I don't want you to be collapsing on me."

"I'll be fine," I promise before a worrying thought hits me. "Wait, there is the normal apparatus to draw blood, isn't there? He isn't going to bite me?"

Oliver snorts as he propels me through the halls, heading up a grand staircase which is full of people moving up and down. He grabs hold of my shoulder to make sure that I don't get lost and pushes me ahead of him, so I am always in his sight. That's worrying but comforting at the same time – I'd rather be with an uninjured Oliver than near to the normally less predatory but injured vampires loitering around us. "No, of course he isn't going to bite you, silly girl," he sounds almost exasperated as if I asked a stupid question. "I don't have the inclination to let him bite you and then you die… and even if you _didn't_ die, I wouldn't want to listen to his whining about biting someone when he never wanted to," he continues – of course, it would be a selfish reason why I wasn't getting bitten, not because he was worried for my safety.

He pushes me through a door and we emerge in a corridor which is much cooler than the rest of the building, and is entirely empty. Moving quicker now, we head for the door at the end of the corridor, a well maintained wooden door which opens into a warm room and which contains merely three vampires: Amelie, Sam and Michael. Both the elder vampires are standing without a scratch on them, but where is Michael?

I look over and see Michael slouched on the floor, obviously majorly injured. His eyes are closed and there are bloody cuts all over his body –they aren't healing as they should do. I can't explain it, but he just seems so much paler than normal, more fragile.

Amelie whirls around as soon as she evidently gets a whiff of my human scent, or hears my heartbeat either one, and snarls at one of Oliver or me – it doesn't really matter which one. The snarl still makes my hairs stand on end and I flinch away from the venom in her face, the inhumanity of the crimson eyes staring at me with what I think could be hatred.

She is still wearing the dress she was wearing at the party: the pale milky coloured thing, although now it appears smeared with vampire blood, her hair coming out of it's jewelled bun with the frantic nature of what is going on. But her appearance doesn't detract me from the lack of humanity I see in her eyes…

"Unless I am now turning crazy, I believe I told you _not to come_," she snaps and I can tell that this is directed at me. But then she turns to Oliver, "What are you doing, bringing her here? Are you _trying_ to torment the poor boy?" she presses, showing some sort of emotion for Michael. Ahhh, it's because he is Sam's Grandson and she loves Sam – she doesn't want Sam hurting because Michael is injured or in pain.

"She wants to donate some blood to him," Oliver says, his hand tightening on my shoulder which betrays his anger with Amelie. It isn't tight enough to hurt – yet, anyway – but feels rather nice and comforting… which isn't what I would have expected from Oliver touching me.

Amelie's gaze returns to mine and she seems calculating, as if she can't believe I am willing to do this. Her cold grey eyes search mine and I resist the urge to shiver as she seems to be able to read my mind. That's impossible – right? At least, I hope it is… otherwise she will be able to see all my anti-Amelie thoughts…

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she confirms with me, and she sounds almost human. I think the main word there is_ almost_. She still is detached and evidently doesn't feel any emotion for me, simply feels she needs to ask this question.

"It's only a pint or so, right?" I shrug, managing to force a slightly shaky laugh out. She seems uncertain but nods anyway, moving closer to me. As I see her at a close distance, she is so much younger and less self assured than she seems from a distance; she doesn't have the confidence in here and the dress just seems plain wrong on her. She doesn't seem the leader I thought she was…whether that that is because of the worry she is evidently feeling or for other reasons, I'm not sure but I guess it is good to see she isn't entirely inhuman.

Suddenly, she pulls me from Oliver's grasp with ease and drags me across the room to near where Sam is standing. He looks at me with sad eyes but seems almost gracious, thankful, that I am doing this.

"Are _you_ doing it?" I ask in shock, as Amelie wipes my arm down with an anti-bacterial wipe before sorting the equipment. My tone evidently breaks into her concentration because she stops arranging the blood taking equipment and looks at me with a soft smile.

"Yes, I am not entirely consumed with bloodlust when I see blood, Claire," she says, a bitter edge to her voice – one I wouldn't associate with her since she gave me that smile. Strange, her moods change after a second – I'm getting whiplash already. "I am perfectly capable of taking your blood and not drinking it myself, or getting carried away with how much to take. That is, unless you don't trust me… I am sure I can arrange to have a nurse brought over here, but I doubt that Michael can survive that long," the bitterness is all I can hear in her voice as she continues prepping me without waiting for an answer.

I take a gulp of air and look over at Oliver who nods slowly, evidently agreeing with Amelie – that has to be the first time I have seen them agreeing. Rather, the first time I have asked them both something (a limited thing) and they have came to the same conclusion.

"Quickly," I whisper and she looks up at me again, the smile back. she nods before slipping the needle straight into my vein – of course, a vampire wouldn't have a problem finding my blood source.

_It's just ketchup_, I think to myself as the thick crimson liquid begins to fill up the bag. I glance around the room and see that Oliver is entirely not bothered about my blood but Sam is holding his breath carefully, deliberately not looking in my direction. And Michael… well, Michael doesn't even move. He doesn't twitch or do _anything_ I would expect to see a new vampire doing around freshly flowing blood.

He looks dead.

"All done," Amelie says after about five minutes and two bags entirely filled. She removes them and hands them to Oliver, who promptly takes them over to Michael and begins to pour them into his mouth. I look away at this, soon hearing noises from Michael, and realise just how weak and unsteady I am. "That was a great thing you did for him, Claire… he will be thankful," Amelie whispers to me gently, showing more emotion than she ever has to me before. I nod slowly, unable to move at more than a lethargic pace as she removes the needle from my arm and covers my wound with a tissue to stop the bleeding.

It stops soon enough, but as I try to stand up, I begin to fall. I would hit the floor, but Sam manages to catch me – not hard, with vampire speed – in both arms and steadies me. "Whoa," he says, holding onto me still as I shake even more. "Amelie, I will take her home," he calls over my head, but it seems as if I am hearing it in a detached manner – my ears aren't working properly.

I hear words such as "portal" and "Glass House" but don't get the connection between them. Everything is fuzzy, like cotton wool is in my ears, and I barely feel it as Sam swings me into his arms.

My eyes drift shut but my last thought is of Michael, and hoping he is safe. As if he isn't… well, I'm alone here, aren't I?

* * *

**What do you think?**

**Over 3000 words – whoop xD that's always my target but most of the time I fall **_**way**_** short of that!**

**Please review! :)**

**Vicky xx**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16:**

**Merci for the reviews!**

**I don't own anything!**

**Oneshot competition shall be ran again from this chappy :D**

* * *

_Claire's POV:_

This is from the official paper, the one which college students who are unbeknownst living amongst vampires read.

_Last night, there was an unfortunate accident at the City Hall. Although police are yet to confirm it, it is believed to have been started due to a faulty gas pipe, killing 21 and seriously injuring 45 others…_

I can't read on anymore. This is just lies, every part besides the death toll and the injured. Oliver and I are the only ones, besides Amelie and her people I guess, who _definitely_ haven't been injured whatsoever because we were outside… any weakness I feel is because I donated my blood to Michael, so that he wouldn't be injured, so that I would have someone to come home with me. But nobody did.

I must have passed out because I woke up on the sofa, a blanket tucked around me, Sam having left me a note saying to call him if I felt dizzy whatsoever. When I got up, it turned out he had cooked me breakfast and left it on a low heat so that it wouldn't be charred when I ate it – he is actually a damned good cook! But… where is Michael? I know he is probably still injured, that the blood I gave him won't have been enough, but I just want to speak to him.

So I got up and ate the breakfast before picking the two papers up from the porch. And now, I'm about to turn to the vampire one, the one that tells the truth about everything and only certified definite _knowers_ get the paper: I think it's more of a vampire paper, actually, and this is Michael's copy, but I don't care. I want to know what is definitely going on.

_Last night, somebody blew up City Hall with a bomb, styled __**exactly**__ like one of the bombs released in Northern Ireland throughout the troubles. Forensics experts have identified the epicentre of the explosion to have been near the door, thus impacting our people's chance of escape and the rescue effort._

_We have an enemy living within this town. Somebody knew that there would be a party of nearly every vampire in the town here, last night, and they used that knowledge to their advantage. They attempted to kill us all, and they got 18 of us, also killing three notable humans: Mayor Morrell, Richard Morrell, Chief of Police, and Hannah Moses. _

_There has been a vigilante effort here to dispose of our vampires, but let the perpetrator be warned: __**we will find you.**__ The Founder is most displeased, to say this lightly, having tended to the injured at the Council Building._

_Eighteen of our vampires are dead, with 40 others whose injuries range from light to life threatening. Let us remember these souls who were silenced for doing no wrong. _

Oh my god. The vampires are _seriously_ pissed… but a bomb? I mean, I suspected that, but seriously knowing that this has happened… I never thought that bombs would be something I would have to worry about in Morganville; I thought the only threat would be the vampires. But evidently there is a human on the loose who wants to destroy every vampire, or most likely Amelie. They just didn't know that she left early… they killed _Richard_. Richard is dead – the detective told me that he had been rushed to hospital but… but I never expected he would _die_. And now we have no mayor, no chief of police, and no whatever Hannah Moses was. I never met her before but it is a travesty that I never _will_ get to meet her, now that she has perished in a bomb not intended for her.

A noise in the living room makes me turn back through there in fear, stopping only to grab the anti-vampire weapons bag incase it is someone dangerous, and I stop still in shock at who it is.

Amelie.

She is standing in the centre of the living room and staring in my direction with an approximation of an amused expression on her face, her eyes locked on the bag. I shove it onto the floor, knowing it would _not_ be a good idea to use the contents of the bag on her, especially when such events have happened in correlation with her and 'her people'. I may still despise her for sentencing Shane to death, but seeing how she cared for Sam and Michael yesterday sort of changed my opinion of her _slightly_.

"Claire," she states my name without any infliction of emotion in her voice, her perfect face not moving a centimetre as she recognises my existence.

"Ma'am," I reply, not knowing how else to address her, even though I have spoken with her all but two or three times. "What… what are you doing here?" I ask the question I have to ask, wanting to know what reason she has for coming here to see me, when it is _quite_ obvious that I am the only one in.

"I simply wished to confirm that you hadn't died after giving so much blood for your first time last night," she replies coolly, but I get the feeling that that isn't it. There is something to her tone, the slightly strange way she is looking at me that makes me feel as if she is scrutinising everything about me.

"I'm fine – Sam left breakfast for me and I only feel a little woozy when I run or stand up fast," I acknowledge the speed at which I got through here upon hearing an intruder in the house.

She smiles, albeit extremely briefly, and nods, evidently unsure what else to say in terms of my well being. "Very well. I also require to inform you that classes begin today, on your new timetable which Oliver so _very_ kindly showed me earlier. If you have had time to look, you will see that you have no classes today but only English Literature this evening, with Samuel. I implore you to be careful at this class, for although you will be protected by Samuel, he cannot always be with you, when he has to teach," she explains her true purpose for being here: informing me that classes start today, even though there has been a tonne of destruction last night.

"How am I meant to get there?" I ask her and she shrugs her petite shoulders, evidently not bothered at all.

"I believe Samuel shall be collecting you and bringing you back, since Michael is still indisposed," she responds as if she doesn't care – something which I suppose is actually the truth. "I cannot say how long it will be until Michael is home, but I assume you shall be capable to run the house in his absence?" she seems to have a little concern in her voice, though it seems a little false, as if she needs to 'check up' on me since Oliver is… well, I have absolutely no idea what he is doing and I don't care. He is only my Protector, and since I still can't remember anything about that, it's a little sketchy in my mind.

"I will be fine, I'm sure," I respond with a smile and she nods, backing away towards the door.

"Lock your doors and don't answer if anyone knocks; people are angry about the bomb and they will take it out on anyone, particularly the weak and defenceless," she basically insults me as she doesn't even attempt to conceal it. This is what irritates me about her, and god knows how many others: the way that they think that, just because they are _vampires_, they have the right to insult us.

"Already done," I respond in a harsh tone – harsh to be speaking to Amelie in, anyway. Her eyebrows raise but she doesn't comment, simply walks out of the portal and back to wherever she was, probably where Michael is as well.

I feel lonely and desolate, as if there is nobody in the world who _wants_ to spend time with me. At the moment, I don't blame them: everyone I _have_ spent even more than a minute or two right now seem to be unconscious, missing, or dead.

But at least there is something to keep me going: school. It's the one thing that means that I don't have to go entirely crazy, just waiting for _someone_ to come home. After all, I'm the only one here and I _need_ one of my friends, my _boyfriend_, to come home soon… otherwise, I may go crazy.

"Sam?" I dial his number and question the voice on the other end of the line, even though it is most definitely Sam. I just want to give him a chance to recognise who it is.

"Claire, is that you?" he asks, and I realise that the line isn't particularly good. I'm ringing off the home phone but I hear crackling so he must be someplace where it isn't very good signal. Maybe a devil's lair or something… but no, because that's what Oliver's office is called, since the devil (hello, he tried to kill us) lives there the majority of the time.

"Yeah, it's me," I confirm my identity and he laughs slightly, but it seems forced – he must be in the thick of the wounded or something. That's not a surprise: he seems as if he would care for anyone who is injured and if Amelie is there, of course he is going to be stalking her… even though she just came here, so I don't know if she is there anymore, but still!

"What's up? Do you need a lift tonight to class or something?" he seems to guess my reason for calling before another thought hits him. "Oh, are you ok? You're not dizzy or anything, are you?" he reverts back to thinking about the note he left earlier, evident worry in his tone for me. That's so nice: he barely knows me and he is concerned for me.

"No, no, I'm fine – honestly!" I protest my state of health to be fully fine, settling down in one of the chairs in the living room as I talk. "I was just, erm, wondering if you would mind taking me and stuff to school tonight? As I don't really have any other way of getting there… speaking of that, how _is_ Michael?" I ask him about Michael, hoping to god that he is alright because if he isn't, I'm going to be alone in his house. Eve could never wake up and Shane… I haven't a fricking clue where Shane is.

"He'll be home in a couple of days; he's just recuperating fully before coming back to the house," he soothes me, his tone evidently levelled to just the right level of calmness in order to make me relax. "As for a lift, sure thing. Class starts at like 2:30am so I'll get you at 1:45, as I need to set up," he decides – I'm not going to complain because otherwise I can't get to one of the classes I _chose _to go to. I can't give Oliver any chance to dispose of me because I failed on one of the clauses in the contract – one of them was to continue going to school, so I need to go.

"Sure, see you then," I say, trying to sound as cheery as possible but failing: what have I got to be cheery for? Everyone I know is pretty much indisposed everywhere I go and it isn't as if I have something to do now, is it? I have no classes the same, pretty much, as every class I am in, according to this timetable, is at a level which is three years ahead of what I was doing even last week.

"Claire, I haven't got anything to do after about 4pm, so if you want, I can come over and just watch TV with you or something?" he suggests, evidently trying to help me out by not letting me be alone. But can I drag him away from his plans and stuff to just sit with me?

"That'd be great, thanks," I whisper, being selfish enough to take his offer because I just can't be alone anymore.

"See you at 4pm then," he says, sounding distracted. "Look, Claire, I gotta go so I'll see you later."

"Bye," I say softly, placing the phone back in the holder as I can tell he has already hung up.

I look at the clock and realise it is barely 11am. So what am I supposed to do for the next four and a bit hours?

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	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17:**

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* * *

_Claire's POV:_

_**(This is a dream by the way)**_

_I see him: I see Shane. He is wandering through the fields around Morganville and looks lost, hurt, confused… he doesn't seem to know where he is going or what he is doing… he's alone._

_I rush through the prairies towards him and call his name: "Shane, Shane!" I cry every few seconds when I breathe, the distance between us shrinking with every huge leap I take. But he doesn't turn… he doesn't react to my shrieks for him, nor does he give any sign that he hears my approach behind him: he just stands there._

_I reach him finally and shake his shoulders, trying to get him to __**see**__ me – it's as if I'm a ghost and he is just staring in a direction… he can't see me and this worries me…_

"_Shane!" I whisper his name into his face as I hold onto him, pulling him down to my level. Though he reacts, he doesn't seem to know __**why**__ he is moving and he still doesn't see me – why? "Come on honey, I've missed you! Haven't you missed me?" I continue, tears beginning to stream down my cheeks as I realise that he can't see me for some reason._

_Suddenly, someone appears behind me: it isn't that I can hear their approach, not at all, but rather the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end… it's a vampire. they pull me away from Shane, who doesn't seem to notice any of this exchange, and back to Morganville, back to the control of Amelie and the vampires…_

_All the while, I kick and scream but they don't react: I don't know who the vampire is but they are bringing me back. Violently, they shove their hand over my mouth to shut me up and accidentally strike my head in the process. Yet, I continue to fight and refused to let them win, even as they take me into a council building and set me down in one of the wooden, hard chairs – for visiting humans… who aren't going to leave._

_Some __**other**__ vampire I don't know approaches me, and their fangs are extended. I know what they are going to do and fight to get away from them, kick and scream but they continue to advance, taking ahold of my neck and slowly bending towards it… they begin to drain my blood, and I begin to fade and fade into… nothingness…_

_**(End of dream)**_

* * *

"Claire, Claire, wake up – it's only a dream!" someone shakes me back to consciousness and I open my bleary eyes to see… Michael? No… Michael has blonde hair – who is this?

"W-who are you?" I whisper, my brain unable to catch up to what is going on – somewhere inside, I _know_ I recognise him… but he's a vampire. The only thing I can think about vampires right now is that awful dream, how they stole me from Shane _who didn't even recognise me_ and then killed me.

His brow furrows at my lack of recognition towards him, and it floods back into my mind who he is – Sam, Michael's Grandad. "Claire, I'm Sam, remember?" he says gently, helping me sit upright on the sofa.

"Yeah… sorry… I forgot," I say, still unable to get the images from the dream out of my mind. I realise I'm crying and that my throat is killing – why? "Um… I don't know what I was going to say," I laugh weakly but then recoil at the pain in my throat: what? Why does my throat hurt?

Sam hands me a glass of water already on the side and I gulp it down, wincing as it strikes the pain in my throat before gradually soothing it. "When I came in, you were thrashing around and screaming your head off – you were already waking up but I helped you," he explains, disappearing into the kitchen and returning with an apple. He throws it across the room at me and I duck, but just about manage to catch it.

"Thanks, Sam," I say, biting into the apple and realising just how hungry I am. I take a glance at the clock and realise its 4pm – the time he said he would be coming over. Have I really been asleep for four and a bit hours? Whoa, that is weird – and if I had that dream across the entire time, no _wonder_ my throat hurt! "How's Michael now? When can he come home?" I ask him and he laughs at my sudden change in subject.

"I think he should be back definitely next week – it's hard to explain what's going on with him and how vampires recuperate but it's not something that you want to be around Claire, seriously," he tells me gravely and I know that he is right: I couldn't cope with seeing Michael all _vampirey_… he's Michael to me and to see him struggling would be like a little kid realising that Santa Clause is just it's parents – it would make me realise that Michael really _is_ a monster underneath all the angelic looks.

"Ok," I sigh before smiling slightly at Sam. "What do you want to do tonight?" I ask him and he smiles back at me, shrugging.

"Could watch a film, if you want?" he suggests and I nod, not really bothered. It's strange being in the house all by myself… normally there should be Shane, Michael and Eve… but one of them is on the run because Oliver saved him, one is recuperating after almost being blown to pieces and one of them is in hospital after narrowly missing death by her brother shooting her.

"What do you want to watch? Before you say anything, I don't care," I whisper, the realisation that, of the four of us, the only non-Morganville native is left here.

He hesitates before placing a hand on my shoulder and pulling me into his chest for a hug. Here, I just sob and sob, venting all my feelings from the past week or two into his shirt… which doesn't do it any damage _at all_. "Sam, I'm sorry about your shirt," I say with a small smile as I finally stop crying after about fifteen minutes.

He laughs and looks down at the soaking wet patch on the shoulder of his shirt and shrugs. He stands up and hesitates before making a decision in his mind as to doing something – but what? "Come on, Claire, there is something I should show you – after all, you're in the house alone now and if there are any emergencies you need to be able to get out without using the door," he says to me, pulling me up without effort to stand next to him. Carefully, he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear before taking me across the room to look at… the wall.

"Sam, I'm not _really_ seeing the importance of a wall," I sigh, but he shakes his head.

"Amelie'll kill me," he mutters to himself before turning back to me. "Claire, you know how last night we went from the council building to here in the space of a second?" he asks me but I shake my head.

"I don't remember anything after Amelie draining my blood," I confess and he grimaces.

"Right, ok, Claire, you don't need to know the specifics because I am _entirely_ the wrong person to go into that, but there are methods of transport around Morganville… for special people, people who know," he tells me, sounding as if he is bound by something not to tell me… or he just wants me to guess for myself. With the lack of speech from me, he waves an arm and suddenly…

… WOAH! Is that a _door_?

"Portals?" I confirm, as I open the door to see… black… it's just empty. But as soon as Sam looks into it, I suddenly see an apartment which is sparsely furnished but is covered in books… I take it that that is Sam's place then.

"There is a machine in Morganville that controls the way that people forget things as soon as they leave the boundaries and various other things, but you don't need to know them. Claire, this machine means that there are doorways, portals, from places in Morganville to others – all the Founders Houses are linked together, along with Common Grounds, though Oliver doesn't know it, the Hospital and an assortment of others," he tells me urgently –but why is he telling me, if Amelie didn't want me to know? Speaking of that, _why_ didn't Amelie want me to know?

"Why did she not want me to know?" I ask him quietly, as we face his apartment – it seems so weird to see somewhere which I _know_ is across town appear just through a door!

"I think it is because you signed with Oliver – if you had gone 'with her' she would have told you," he predicts an answer from a _very_ complicated woman's brain – she is _crazy_, though, because what woman in their right mind would turn someone like Sam away who is obviously entirely in love with her? Jeez… she's absolutely puddled, up the wrong tree!

"So is this just incase of an emergency or something then?" I confirm and he nods, instantly on guard and worried.

"You _cannot_ tell her that I told you, Claire, you just _can't_," he begs of me and I feel sorrow and anger for him. sorrow because he is so scared that she will use _anything_ against him so that he can't be near her, and anger because he shouldn't have to act like this to be with the woman he loves; if she loves him, she should be with him, not hiding away and playing on his feelings to get him to do anything she wants him to.

"I promise I won't, Sam, truly," I confirm and he nods, evidently relaxing slightly at my complete honesty and acceptance that I won't tell the woman he loves that he basically betrayed her confidence… but the fact that she showed him shows how she _does_ love him. Perhaps there is hope for them, after all.

"I'm going to go and get changed so why don't you choose a film or something that we can take back to your house to watch and then maybe order a pizza?" he suggests, already disappearing into his room to change the shirt – probably going to go for another one of the exact same style. Well, he _is_ the teacher - he needs to appear professional!

I select Harry Potter number 6 to watch because Sam doesn't exactly have _girly_ films and this series is one of the only ones I could watch without getting _more_ nightmares. Once I have selected this, Sam is already back, now wearing an emerald green shirt: I was right about it being the same style.

"Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – good choice," he says with an easy grin, already dialling a number for pizza. "Margarita?" he confirms with me and I nod, walking through the portal back to my house with a touch of hesitancy and trepidation – to be walking all the way across town in one step is so strange! I would love to know more about the way that this has been set up but I doubt that I will ever be able to, if Amelie doesn't trust me enough to tell me about the portals. I mean, all I've done is rescue the book to give to her from Oliver and save Michael's life by voluntarily giving him blood. Nothing at all there, is there?

I set the film up whilst Sam gets drinks and then collects the pizzas (he got a ham one) from the delivery vampire – of course, a human would refuse to work at this late hour.

OoOoOo

"Claire, it's time to go," he shakes me awake again, but it isn't so bad this time. I fell asleep after the film on his shoulder and he stayed with me for the past few hours, so I wasn't alone: evidently, I only get the scary nightmares when I'm sleeping in the house alone. That's an issue for tomorrow night then, because I can't make him come and stay here every night, can I?

"Urgh," I groan as I wake myself up after only about four hours of sleep. He laughs at me and hands me another drink – coffee – to wake me up enough to pay attention in his class.

"This isn't late for a vampire, you know," he tells me and I nod, unable to talk as I wipe the sleep from my eyes.

"Well, thank god for the fact that I'm not a vampire then," I smile and he ruffles my already messed up hair before standing up.

"I wasn't kidding, Claire, sorry but we have to go," he tells me softly, helping me up. I retie my hair back and make myself at least semi presentable before following him out of the door, only stopping to pick my bag up on the way out.

We drive faster than I thought was possible in an urban area to reach the university in record time, I scared out of my wits because the windows are so tinted that I have no chance of seeing out of them! Sam then almost dragged me upstairs to the room where he teaches and, what a surprise, there were no students in there yet.

"They're normally late but if _I_ am ever late then they give me hell," he explains, sitting me down at the table closest to him, so he can protect me if the others get arsey. I'd have thought wearing Oliver's symbol would be enough, but I want Sam's protection as well.

"What are we studying?" I ask him, getting a pen and paper out of my bag in preparation for the lesson. As he writes on the board the useless lesson WALTs and WILFs, he answers:

"We're reading and then analysing Lord of the Flies," he tells me and I groan. "What, you don't like the book?" he asks me with a surprised tone to his voice.

"I absolutely _detest_ it," I inform him in a quiet voice, hitting my head on the table.

"Good job, because we aren't _really_ reading it – we're going to start Great Expectations tonight," he says in a cheery tone, coming and sitting on the desk in front of me. My head shoots up and I narrow my eyes as I look at him, wondering whether or not he is kidding me here as well, and which book we are actually going to do.

"Are you kidding?" I ask but he shakes his head, tossing a fresh copy of Great Expectations at me from the side. "Yay, this is awesome! I had to read Lord of the Flies in school and it was the hardest time of my life," I tell him and he smiles, evidently agreeing with me.

"I was already a vampire when it was released but it was quite possibly the worst book I have ever read," he agrees with me before suddenly standing up. "The other students are coming in now, so just be careful, ok?" he says to me, evidently concerned for my wellbeing.

I half snort, thinking I've lived through Oliver searching for the book, everything with Monica, a possible shooting attempt and a bomb, as well as being signed with Oliver: how could _vampires_ register on the list? But then I remember them and how _scary_ they are and shudder,

"I'll be careful, honest," I say meekly and Sam nods, evidently happy with this.

"Good," he tells me shortly, a slight coolness to his voice. "As I promised Michael that I would look after you, and I can't have you messing that up," he continues: oh… ok then… be good, just to help Sam… but I should do.

"Believe me, we're going to be fine," I say with a grin, absentmindedly twisting the bracelet on my wrist. I belong to Oliver… and I can never forget it.

* * *

_Oliver's POV – the next day:_

She has had a day or two to herself now, and that is time enough. For the full effects of my plan to come into action, she needs to get into action soon. Otherwise the stunt with removing the most influential vampires and humans in town will have been for nothing – it will make this event pale in comparison to what it has the potential of doing.

Amelie loves children… so she ought to love them still, after what Claire will do.

I turn in my office and smile as I see the products bought with the alias' credit card that I use to ensure Amelie doesn't track down what I have ordered, so that it cannot be traced back to me…

… After all, what would _I_ want to do with 1500 cubic metres of gas?

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	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18:**

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**I don't own anything - a fact that gets me down sometimes.**

**People requested more of Oliver's POV so here you are, an entire _chapter_ in his POV!**

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_Oliver's POV:_

I have to get her here today, to begin the next stage of the plan. This is the stage which I, perhaps, may _slightly_ regret… but not really. It is only a little qualm I have with such a mass murder, especially with the intended targets.

I sit down in the chair in my office and contemplate as to whether or not I should ring _right_ now, or allow her a slight lie in – I believe that that is what they call them nowadays – especially since she had her first night class last night. I wonder whether or not she is now regretting deciding taking a night class, if she has survived the night. I suppose Sam will have protected her if anything went down, so to speak, but I doubt that she would have enjoyed it if she was being attacked. Something tells me that the girl is opinionated to the point of being _too_ opinionated: why else would Monica have chosen _her_ to pick on at the university?

It's past ten am now, so she has had long enough to sleep. After all, I feel _nothing_ for her, nothing whatsoever, so why should I care whether or not she has had enough sleep? I feel _nothing_ whatsoever, I don't!

Yet something in me wants to contest this, to make me realise something that is in my heart. It wants me to admit something; it wants me to admit that when I kiss her, it is more than just business. I shall _not_ do that for… if I do, then I jeopardize the plan I have had in action for months. If it was not for Claire coming to town, I would _still_ be planning it; you see, if such a _worthy_ candidate had not been found, I was going to have to use Eve. Whilst she may have been a good one for the whole 'anti vampires' thing, it would nowhere _near_ have worked as well… since half of what I have done has revolved around specifics of _Claire_, not Eve.

I feel as if I wish to rip something in half, preferably a human; I cannot focus on _anything_ without this child here. It's as if I need her to be here to be able to focus on the matter at hand.

And that isn't what I want.

I reach out and pick up the landline, dialling her mobile number, the one I memorised the second I found it out – not just because of my vampire memory but because I _wanted_ to know it.

An alert voice answers – much more alert than I would have thought a night student would be at this time – and startles me. "Hello?"

Evidently, she has not had the forward thinking to programme my name into her phone… or she has and simply is inquiring what I want.

"Claire, I require you to come down in a short while," I say, thinking half an hour shall be adequate: after all, I need to clear away all of the plans I have made so she doesn't see them in her regular state and escape before I can control her.

"Five minutes?" she suggests – _what_? I suppose she must have already been on her way here… but her voice sounds so eager, as if she _wants_ to see me. How quaint… and strange. Very strange indeed.

I look around at the mass of plans and remember I have _vampire_ speed – and an ancient vampire's speed at that – so it is plenty of time. "Five minutes, certainly. But _do_ knock before you enter, Claire, I am wrapping up important dealings," I caution her, being literal in my meaning of 'wrapping up'.

"Sure thing, see ya soon!" she, once again, sounds too chipper to be talking to me. But I throw the phone down on the jack, not wanting to hear her voice anymore. It's getting too hard to do this… but I _must_. This town is more important to me than _any_ individual and that shall never change, I swear. I _cannot_ loose sight of that end goal, the chance to have _my_ name as the head of this town whilst the mutilated corpse of Amelie is paraded around to show my power.

As soon as I put the phone down, I stand up and move across the room, preparing to deal with all the plans I have. As I pack them away, snippets of my writing stand out at me:

"_bring Claire under my control by _any_ means possible"_

"_have Shane locked away and _do not_ let him go"_

"_use gas to kill many in the school"_

"_kill someone close to Amelie"_

"_Kill Amelie"_

The main stages of my plan, barring the bomb and shooting Eve, are here, the next stage still a slight thorn in my side. After all, the person to kill is a hard one right now for some people… for even under my control there may be a limit which Claire reaches before I have to… go to certain _new_ extremes to keep her under my control.

"_bring the town under my control from beneath, quietly so that Amelie doesn't suspect anything, so that when Claire kills Amelie, the town follow _me_ rather than their dead Founder… true, there may be a _little_ resistance from some of her more 'hardcore' fans, but I will have the town"_

I read things as I go, realising that I have a great chance of getting this. Claire knows nothing is wrong and with the fact that none of her little friendies are in the house – Michael's injuries were bonuses I had not factored in – means that she cannot ask anyone if she _does_ believe something is wrong. The only one she could ask would be Sam but I doubt she did last night; she would have been entirely focused on learning, I think. But I can ask her when she is under my control because, well, I need to make sure she hasn't let something slip.

By the time I hear the knock at the door, I am sitting down in my chair and looking as if I haven't been doing anything since I waited for her to come. Everything in the office is pitch perfect; it looks as if there _hasn't_ been an evil controller in here (me) plotting to overthrow Amelie from the town with the use of a poor, defenceless girl.

"Come in, Claire," I call loudly enough for her to hear. I can recognise the beating of her heart, can recognise the scent of her blood from the _luscious _taste I managed to taste at the beginning of this.

The door opens and she steps in hesitantly, evidently unsure as to why she is here. I know that I need her to tell me about her classes whilst she is still 'normal' so that if someone asks her, or she manages to overthrow my influence which is something I am always fearful of, she has a reason for coming here.

"Sit down," I motion to the chair in front of me and she nods, no emotion crossing her face. Her bag is filled with school books but she doesn't have any classes till this afternoon; perhaps she was going out to enjoy the scenery for this morning even though it was scheduled for her to recover from her class. "So, Claire, tell me about the class of last night. Are you regretting taking a night class?" I ask her with an evil grin, pressing my fingertips together and pointing my hands at her.

She shakes her head and smiles for the first time. "No, it's a really good class," she surprises me by saying, not even a little upset about being in a vampire class as the only human. "I mean… even though it's with _vampires_, Sam is the best teacher I have ever had; he has made English seem interesting to me. It was a bit weird with some of the vampires I have seen trying to attack me once but they didn't dare to do anything on the school premises or with Sam there," she continues, entirely positive about it.

"So you learnt lots?" I confirm, stalling for time. I didn't realise she would be so positive and happy about having been to her first night class – ahead of her other classes with humans in.

She brightens greatly and opens her mouth to talk before shutting it again, the brightness dimming in her eyes. She knows something that she isn't allowed to tell me; all that indicates to me is that Sam told her something Amelie told _him_ but that she told him not to tell Claire, therefore myself. I can ask her this when she is under my control.

"Yeah, I learned loads," she confirms, her voice weak and not showing her full emotion.

"Good, I am glad," I say, standing up and walking around towards her. I, with the power of my mind, seem to force her head up to look at me, the height difference between her sitting and me standing almost comical. But her eyes connect with mine and I throw out the most power I have ever done before to control her, wanting her entirely under my reach, my influence.

She buckles under my control, as if she is fighting the control, but I grab her arms and pull her to me, pressing my lips to hers. Naturally, since she is still herself, she fights me off but doesn't manage to budge me one inch.

I feel the heat from her body spreading through me as my hands grip her shoulders tightly, forcing her against me. As she comes under my control, she relaxes against me, no longer fighting me but just embracing the fact that she is _enjoying_ my kissing her. Her lips kiss me back and ignite a beast inside of me, one that wants her and only her – the feelings I have for her erupt and force me to act without thinking.

I force her mouth open and kiss her further, spurred on by her slight moan of delight. Somehow, she ends up with her back against the wall and she leans into me, her hands roaming my chest. She kisses me back harder, smiling as she does so, and her leg manages to wrap itself around her waist. Her pulse is fast, erratic, and it drives me mad, wanting her more than ever.

I rip my lips from hers, knowing she has to breathe, and kiss her neck, the desire to bite her intoxicating. I want to rip into her skin, to take some of the vitality in her veins, to taste her blood in my mouth. I want her blood now; I have used so much energy getting her under my control so greatly that I feel as if I haven't fed in months.

Yet I cannot. If I do, I will have no way of explaining the bite mark: Brandon, the one who 'bit' her last time, is dead and why would anyone else bite the girl under my Protection? I cannot bite her but I _want_ to so much… it's driving me mental.

Her touch on my skin increases my lack of control and I almost take things too far, my hand on her shoulder and teasing off—no, no, _NO_! I can't do this.

So, with a ferocious snarl, I suddenly rip myself away from her besides to take her hand and pull her back to the chair. She seems disappointed that I have left her but she doesn't say a single word, still utterly under my control. If I told her to go jump under a bus (not that there are any in Morganville) she would do right now.

"Claire, what did Sam tell you?" I ask her gently, refastening the buttons she undid sometime. I look right into her eyes and she contemplates answering. "Claire, what was it that he told you that he told you not to tell me?" I continue, realising that he probably told her a _lot_ yesterday and that my original question wasn't specific enough.

She nods, understanding now and stands up. "I need to show you… it's this portal system that means you can get from one place to another without going outside – the Founder Houses, Common Grounds and other main places in Morganville," she says: WHAT? There is a system that means people can get to different places through a door… I suppose that it is Amelie with Myrnin who has made this, Myrnin has created it the daft bugger. He is 'suffering from this disease' and has created some portal system and I am not allowed to know of it?

"Show me," I order sharply, standing up and moving across the room to stand behind her. She nods and waves a hand theatrically, a door suddenly appearing: it is old fashioned and entirely Myrnin-like; he is the one who created it.

She opens the door and reveals the inside of the Glass House: something which ought to be impossible because of the geographical distance between them. It isn't possible but… it is… it's here and… Amelie doesn't know that we know about this. We, _I_, can use this to the advantage. It is possible that-

"Is it linked to the school?" I ask urgently and she nods: YES! This is perfect. "Good, now thank you Claire… come and sit down whilst I give you my instructions," I instruct, moving back to sit down. This is an unexpected bonus, to have the portal and it will make the plan so much easier.

"Yes, Oliver?" she seems to have more control over her speech which is strange but perhaps… oh, I don't know how far this mind control works but maybe… maybe she is falling for me and it is more _choosing_ to do this rather than being forced.

So much of me wants this to be the truth but so much doesn't…

"Look over there," I instruct, directing her gaze to the fifteen gas canisters in the corner of the room. "I want you to set these up in the air conditioning system in the schools, primarily in the primary school. I want you to set them up to go off in the assembly halls to go off at a peak level of concentration at 9am tomorrow morning," I pause for a moment. She does not say a single word in this time, just continues to stare at the cylinders in the far corner.

"I want you to kill children in Morganville Primary and Secondary School."

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**Thrilling?**

**This is the next twist, incase it wasn't obvious!**

**Please review! 7 reviews and I shall update :D**

**Vicky xx**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19:**

**All knowledge of gas is from my wondrous chemistry GCSE - Don't even GO near this AS stuff :( - & random facts from WWI and WWII xD**

**DEDICATED TO FRIZZYHEAD101 FOR THE SOON TO BE BIRTH OF HER BABY BROTHER! Or, it could be a medical error and be a girl...**

**I don't own anything!**

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_Evil Claire's POV:_

It's a simple enough task. I mean, all I have to do is set up a couple of timer systems to release the gas into the school hall in time for the school assembly: the number of children here is so small that the entire school can fit into the hall for an assembly. This is the _opposite_ of my high school, which was so big that there was a struggle to fit one year in there… but anyway, the point here is _not_ to be reminiscing upon my past. No, it is a chance to utilise the lack of children in Morganville to my advantage, to kill more than I perhaps would normally.

"Tomorrow morning?" I confirm, feeling a sort of hold over me vanish. A part inside of me fights the idea that this is a _good_ thing to be doing, but I ignore it: after all, Oliver has asked me to do it. It can't be bad, can it? He saved me from Brandon as well as releasing Shane from the cage – he has been nothing but helpful to me.

He frowns slightly for some imperceptible reason but nods at the same time. "Yes, 9am… I presume that you shall know what to do in order to have maximum impact, yet without _every_ child dying."

I nod in agreement, plans already forming in my mind as I realise I have the _perfect_ manner in which to attack.

He clicks his fingers and a great sheet seems to disappear from my mind somehow: it is indescribable what occurs, yet I feel freer in a sense. "Claire, do keep this quiet. After all… never mind," he trails off and I nod, knowing that it isn't the best of ideas to tell the world what my plans are for Morganville School.

"I'm going to leave the gas here, until I get some other stuff," I tell him, my mind whirling as I try to think up things to do with how I can release the gas better. I don't know what type of gas it is and Oliver didn't say, so I'm going to have to go look at the canisters first – after all, if it is natural gas (methane) then it had better not have the added smell as then they will be alerted. But chlorine gas has a certain yellowish-green tinge, one that could be noticed – especially as it rises… but it causes a much stronger reaction on the skin, with blisters appearing.

I turn to look at Oliver who narrows his eyes at me, trying to size me up for some reason. After a long while, he nods slowly and motions for me to leave, something which I don't do instantly. Instead, I stand up… but head towards the canisters, heading for the label on the front of them.

Phosgene gas… that's absolutely _perfect_!

I smile slightly as I walk out of the room, not saying another word to Oliver. This gas… it's colourless so they won't see it as it fans out of the air conditioning units. The aroma is of hay or grass, so that isn't _too_ odd to be in there and could be described by the mowing of the field that occurs weekly on… today. That's even _better_ because it is fresh so will be there! The only _slight_ letdown is that the bodies are not disfigured whatsoever – the gas blocks the pulmonary system and causes the victim to suffocate… but perhaps disfiguring the bodies of children is _too_ far. Perhaps this is the right course to go down – even though I doubt that Oliver has chosen this gas because of the properties it has. No, he'll have gone for the first damned gas he could find.

I head home to the Glass House and begin to work on my plan for the school, knowing that I must get the system set up between about 9pm and 5:30am…shouldn't be hard!

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_Oliver's POV:_

Something about her, it is beginning to worry me. Even when she was under my control _entirely_, she was able to think her own thoughts. It was harder for me to bring her under my control, but I managed it: I can _always_ manage it. But now, now she has the ability to think for herself about a plan when she ought to be only concentrating on me, on what _I_ tell her to think. Even now, when she is under my control though she still acts 'normal', I feel that she has _too_ much freedom of thought. I could sense it; though she was planning the same way that she did with the bomb in City Hall, I am beginning to wonder if I need to move things up a grade between us…

… but can I do it without succumbing to the changes I feel occurring inside of me, no matter how much I fight it? Can I do it without sacrificing my plan for power, to get this town from the only person in the world who does not deserve it? I can only hope so… but at this current moment in time, I cannot confirm anything.

The phone on my desk rings, breaking my reverie with a suddenness that isn't at all pleasant. I sigh as I consider just who the most likely person is to be on the other end of the phone: they have blonde hair, are smaller than myself, and I am trying to over throw them.

Amelie.

I pick up the phone but do not say a word, mimicking her impolite means by which, when answering the phone, you do not speak which, in turn, unnerves the person on the other end of the phone.

"Oliver, if you deign to stop being such an idiotic creature, your presence could be required over at the Elder's Council building," Amelie says, her voice tetchy as my usage of her 'trick' words wonders.

I tilt my head back and shut my eyes, smiling as I shake my head. "And what interest do _I_ have in attending a meeting led by _you_?"

I can hear her teeth grating as she attempts to maintain her ice cold composure whilst talking with me. I am one of the only people in this world who knows her well enough to be able to get under her skin, so to speak, and this gives me a great advantage in annoying her. Whilst it may not get me very far with my plan for Morganville, I know for a fact that it gives me _great_ pleasure to be able to press all her buttons in a manner that means she cannot overreact.

"I would have thought," she says slowly, keeping herself ice cold, "That you would have a desire to find out the state of our people after the attack the other night. Unless you are so heartless not to be concerned for our _vampires_," each word cuts through the phone and causes me to wince involuntarily. She is still strong, even with the events of late, and could destroy me if she had a reason to.

"Ahhh yes," I say, deciding I _do_ want to attend. "After all, I was under the impression that this meeting would revolve around you pining for someone who you could _quite_ easily be with, as they usually do. But I shall be down there shortly," I continue, deciding to snipe _somehow_, or she will think I am losing my touch.

Silence greets me for such a long time that I think she has thrown the phone down in anger, or something similar. But then she responds, "I suggest you make your way down here _most_ imminently, Oliver, or you shall find your usefulness to me _most_ depleted… perhaps so much so that I decide that removing you will not be an issue," she threatens me, something within her voice so deadly that I can believe her.

"Yes, my _dearest_ Amelie," I say to her venomously, before hanging up by throwing the phone down back in its jack. I feel my face contorting in anger at the way that she feels she can speak to me: she has no right to!

This 'conversation' has only reaffirmed one thought inside of me: I _must_ get control of this town, no matter how I could _possibly_ feel for certain individuals. After all, I cannot confirm that I feel this way for Claire – it could be _anything_. But there is one thing I am confident on: Amelie needs to die.

I stalk towards the wall, having forgotten that Amelie does not know of my knowledge of the portal system she has kept secret for so long, before remembering at just the last moment. I then turn back around and stalk out of the café through the main door, heading for my car parked in the shade of the huge tree in front of it.

Driving like a maniac that _definitely_ causes a good heart attack or two from the humans, I reach the building of my desires, looking over at the remnants of City Hall. The bomb caused a great deal of damage – perhaps even more than I expected, with the effects reaching on for possibly years. I know that there are still vampires who are living on the edge, so to speak, one of which is no longer Michael, something which both pleases and displeases me at the same time for various reasons.

As I make my way up the stairs in the Council building, I catch the scent of many different vampires' blood loitering, no matter how much it has been cleaned by the staff. I can smell the despair lingering from those of my kind who died that night, in excruciating agony. And I have to smile as I realise it was _me_ who initiated this, not Amelie… I have managed to do something that has caused her agony at watching so many die.

I waltz through the doors to the room we always use as if I own the place, which can only annoy her. As I enter, her head turns and her eyes narrow, as if she wishes only to dispose of me. This is a wish she _really_ ought to take up on, if she wishes to keep this town.

"Why, _how_ pleasant is this?" I say slowly, sinking into the chair opposite the most _wondrous_ woman in the history of this world.

"How can you be so calm?" she asks me slowly, her inner turmoil evident on her face for a mere moment. For this moment, I can see that the destruction of her town has rocked her more than perhaps she would care to admit, that spending so much time with dying _vampires_ (something that isn't always that common) has knocked her confidence and utter belief that we cannot be destroyed.

"You think I am calm?" I confirm, deciding to play along. I raise my eyebrows and shake my head, laughing slightly in faked disbelief. "Amelie, I want to rip every human in this town apart until I find the one who has done this to our people. And you think I am calm?"

"Something about you seems… you seem as if you _wanted_ this to happen," she deduces correctly, too close to the truth for my liking.

"That is preposterous," I say coldly, shooting daggers at her as I would normally. "After all, Amelie, I want the _town_ and the vampires… why would destroying the town bring me closer to my end goal?" the only route down which I can go is protesting the fact I want the town intact, the only one which would seem plausible in this situation.

Her eyebrow rises in disbelief and she laughs slightly before returning to neutrality. "Yes, I suppose that that is the truth," she says slowly, accepting my lies as the truth. Her expression cools further as she levels a glare at me before continuing, "We have lost a great number of our people. It has been a travesty and many of them are still in an extremely fragile state. If we do not find out who has done this soon, they may strike again-"

"But have we any ideas?" I butt in, deciding to take a little control from her in the situation we are presently in.

She turns back to me, her eyes ablaze with uncontained anger at being interrupted. "If you would be so kind as to allow me to _finish_, I could perhaps have said," she snarls at me, before a slight brightening appears on her face. "After all, you must be _awfully_ sad to know that with the loss of Mr Collins from this town, we cannot blame him, along with Ms Rosser's state of being comatose ruling her out also."

Her sweet smile at me is laced with bittersweet satisfaction on her part, this being that the human I voted to have saved so that Claire would come to me, and I grimace. "Yes, well, there are a great number of rebels who oppose your system in Morganville, Amelie, so I believe it is more along _your_ line of duty to discover which of your enemies is the most prominent and to dispose of them, _not_ mine," I retaliate, deigning that this is the best course to take. Whilst I would relish the opportunity to dispose of some of the more troublesome humans in this town by guiding the inquiry to them, leaving all the work to Amelie will be the better option, especially with the addition of the stress that shall be caused tomorrow.

"Very well, at least I shall not have to put up with your moaning throughout," she sighs, evidently not knowing that there shall be a huge problem with this tomorrow. I wonder if she will try and do everything herself, or will come running to me for assistance throughout… with Amelie, it could be either, I honestly do not know.

"I suppose that shall be a bonus for you," I agree, leaning back in my chair. "Now, _mon ami_, do we have any other business here or is that all?" I continue, slipping into her native tongue in a strange attempt to unnerve her for she knows of my contempt for French.

Her eyes narrow once again as she contemplates what to say and how to say it, "Je pense que tu t'es trompé l'endroit où nous sommes," she answers, a small smile on her face. she thinks I have mistaken the location in which we are in… I don't understand why she thinks this, if I am honest.

"Je ne sais pas pourquoi tu penses cela," I reply in fluid French, my accent almost as exquisite as hers.

She shakes her head slightly and allows herself a brief smile before answering – in English. "You do not know why I think that you have mistaken your location? I believe the fact _you have been speaking in French_ is enough of a concern, when you consider the fact that we are in _America_," she hisses at me, sensing I must want something if I am speaking in her tongue.

"_Au contraire_, Amelie; I simply deigned to allow myself to slip into your native tongue, for we continually speak in mine," I respond simply, a level of truth to my tone. "I could have, for instance, began to speak in German or Spanish, yet I felt a certain kin with the language of dear France for this moment in time. Is that explanation enough, my _Founder_?" I hiss the last word at her, anger evident in my tone.

She shakes her head and turns away from me, motioning for one of her servants to collect the paperwork from in front of her. "I have no further requirement for you, Oliver, so leave."

"You called me all the way down here simply for you to insult me, then order my departure from the building?" I confirm, increduled.

"I merely required to know if you were willing on being cooperative enough to assist my finding out as to whom attempted to kill us all," she responds coolly, on her way out of the room. "You are not, so I have no further need for your presence. But let me inform you of this before I leave: your charge, Miss Danvers…" she trails off and leaves me to ask what she wants to know about Claire. If she is bringing her up, this cannot be good.

"Yes?"

"I understand she is alone in her home now and I would like you to remind her to be careful," she says, surprising me. Perhaps she _does_ ca- no, she cares for nobody but herself and perhaps Samuel. "After all, she is a human living in a vampire's home… alone. This is not the wisest of decisions and whilst Sam may be willing to keep an eye on her, he is not _always_ going to be there. So ensure she is wise, Oliver, and knows how to protect herself… she could be useful to us in the future, you know, and I do not wish for such talent to be wasted," she finishes on an almost dreamy note before walking swiftly from the room, leaving me alone.

Claire has her mission, one which I know she is _more_ than capable of completing. I have my mission, to ensure that she is kept safe. Just will that interfere with my master plan for Morganville?

And will keeping Claire safe make me lose my overall goal?

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**Merci for all the reviews last chapter - I'm going to write another OliverxClaire, but as a oneshot, sometime in the future so I'll tell you all when!**

**10 reviews, bitte (Ich spreche Deutsch auch, und Spanisch, aber ich habe nicht Franzozisch oder Spanisch in die Oberstufe machen - I speak german and spanish, but I have not taken French or Spanish in 6th form) but...I may switch geog to Spanish.**

**Anyway, review please, and thanks! :D**

**Don't fav or alert without reviewing, or continue to do this XD**

**Vicky xx**


	20. Chapter 20

_Chapter 20:_

_I don't own anything_

_~I'd like to add that, since I'm not an expert in making these things (not that I want to tell you that I am), I cannot describe it accurately… if someone has got experience in gassing school halls and such, please feel free to inform me of my mistakes… just expect the police at your door in an hour or two!~_

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_Claire's POV: - she's still evil!_

A knock at the front door interrupts my concentration and I curse at how someone could be so ignorant as to interrupt me in the middle of something so important! True, _they_ don't know I'm working on a release system to disperse gas throughout the two schools to end in killing dozens of students, but _what __do __they __want_?

I trudge down the stairs when it becomes apparent they are not planning on leaving, and throw the door open. Oh shit, it's dark… I didn't realise so much time had elapsed between commencing building the system in my room and now! It's dark… that can only mean it is after 9pm – and I'm yet to even finish _making_ the device! I am certain of one thing: this cannot be good!

"You idiotic girl, Claire; what if I were another vampire, one who wanted to _hurt_ you?" Sam's angry voice hits me as I squint in an attempt to see him. He steps forwards into the light flooding from the house, his expression uncannily like my Mother's when she's angry.

"I… I didn't think," I confess, no emotion inflicting my voice. "Sorry, Sam, but since I'm figuring you're _not_ here to kill me, why are you?"

His blue eyes narrow slightly as he surveys me before his head whips around to focus on something further away. Of course, there's a beady eyed vampire at the end of the street, fangs out, naturally, and he is evidently waiting to see what Sam will do: will he kill me or leave me unprotected?

"Inside," he orders me, his voice slightly harsher than normal. I sigh but comply, internally wishing that he will just _leave __me __alone_, so I can get to work!

"Yes?" I ask him, faking a yawn so he thinks I want to go to bed.

"Are you ok?" the ridiculously normal question half surprises me, to the point where I almost laugh at the absurdity of it.

"Yeah, I'm good… miss the others, but I'm ok," I respond, allowing the ache in my heart to have some surface time for once. I miss Eve, Michael, Shane… oh, Shane. In my heart, I miss him so mu- no, I prefer the idea of gassing the schools more than having Shane here.

"Michael is ready to come home," Sam's voice startles me, warming my heart at the same time as sending waves of ice cold fear through my veins. No, he _can't_ come home, not tonight. Tomorrow, whatever, but today… no. I wouldn't be able to complete my mission.

"That's fantastic!" I squeal, false excitement filling my voice as I reach forwards and hug Sam. He feels the exact same as Michael, a matching physique, height, build – identical in appearance besides for the hair. It's heartwrenching but familiar at the same time.

"Even though he _can_, he isn't returning tonight, unfortunately," Sam's comment raises my hopes beyond belief and it's all I can do not to allow real happiness onto my face. I strain to place disbelief and disappointment on there instead, stepping back from Sam.

"What? Why?" the high pitchedness of my voice only makes me seem hysterical in regards to Michael not being able to come home… befitting to the situation we are in.

"Amelie has insisted on him staying for one more night, something along the lines of 'he is young and he needs to stay to be looked after, rather than go home yet'," he scowls as he relays something that Amelie said.

For perhaps the first time, I am thankful for the ice cold bitch being around. If she hadn't have insisted that he stay, Michael would be home tonight. That would spell disaster for me a) finishing the device and b) _putting __the __device __in __place_! If she hadn't have made sure that he doesn't come home – I'm guessing it's because 'I will not be competent enough to look after him' – then I would never have had these hours to get the device in place. Oliver said it _has_ to be in for the assembly tomorrow: I guess it's their leaving assemblies for the holidays or something, I don't know, but something tells me he will be _very_ angry if it doesn't go in.

"Oh… well… I guess it's only _one_ more night," I say slowly, trying to make sure that he thinks I am absolutely devastated about this turn of events. "And I mean, I'm going to bed pretty soon anyway, so _really_ it's only tomorrow… and that'll fly by if I know he's coming home," I continue, allowing a touch of _real_ excitement into my voice. You see, though this mission is what I think should be my main focus, something to do with my friends is definitely a good thing – so long as it falls _after_ the events of tomorrow morning.

He smiles and pulls me in for another hug before stepping back to the door. "I'm going to let you go get some sleep," he says, the handle in one hand. "Since no other _good_ vampire is going to come to the door tonight, do _not_ respond if the door is knocked at… if anything goes wrong, you know what you can do, ok?" his gentle reminder of the secret portals which I should know _nothing_ about makes me smile slightly, especially since I am going to be using them later.

"Yes, I know," I say, taking a step back to the stairs. I fake another yawn, though it seems as if _real_ tiredness is on the way, which isn't a good thing with how much I have left to do. "Right, well, thanks for that news, Sam, and I'll see you soon?" I finish off as my feet already hit the first couple of steps.

"Night, Claire," he calls up the stairs as I reach the top. Only when I am safely away from the door does he open it and dart through it, locking it with his own key and leaving me alone.

I dart across into Eve's room and peek through the almost invisible peekhole to see him getting into his car and driving away extremely quickly. _Finally_, I am alone again!

A strange sense of disgust rises over me as I contemplate finishing my device off, something which unnerves me. It's as if part of me doesn't _want_ to do this – the moral compass inside of me is saying that to murder all these children is wrong.

I can barely get through to myself, if that makes sense, that this is the _right_ thing to do, that Oliver wants it to be done so I should do it… it almost makes me want to go see Oliver again, to prove to myself that this is the right course of action. But I ignore this as I continue my work, not stopping until I finish making the thing that can complete my job. I wear gloves – I've seen enough CSI – so that my fingerprints and such are not transferred onto the device… and I'll do the same with the bottles. I don't want to be caught now, do I?

_An hour later…_

Finally! I've finished it! It's perfect… utterly perfect; it will do exactly what I want it to do, at the exact time I want it to. Just to ensure that there is no discovery of anything, I've set it so that the gas will be released slowly over a build up time so that when the doors are shut for the assembly to begin, it will build up faster and faster, hitting a peak where everything shall go _boom_… well, not _boom_ since there is no bomb, but you get my drift.

I cannot describe the device, it's too complicated to: there's so many funnels, a timer, various tubes for the gas to go down at staggered intervals – I tested it out with some pure oxygen I had in my room from an experiment from my old university classes and the measurer I have… and it works! I created an exact replica for the primary school, it being so much easier once I knew how to make it.

I decide that it's best to head straight to the school and drop this off in the ventilation system – I measured the size of this so that it would fit with the size of the tunnels from the blueprints for the school I found online – before then going to Oliver's office for the gas to then connect the bottles up.

Carefully, I hoist the device further up into my arms and shut my eyes, turning my head to face the blank part of wall where I know the portal door shall appear when my eyes reopen. I imagine the slightly battered wooden door with a smile, something which widens as my eyes slowly open to reveal the sight before me. It's here; I can do this!

At the same time as switching the device into my other hand, I twist open the doorknob and reveal the darkened corridors of the high school. Thankfully, there's still the emergency lighting on and I have my phone to sort of light the way, but it'll be pitch black in the ventilation system. Good job that I have a torch strapped to the side of my jeans as otherwise I'd be possibly sabotaging my own chances of sabotaging the health of the kids.

I creep through the corridors, worried incase somebody is still around, but it's entirely empty. Since the primary school closes an entire hour before the high school, I suppose that that will definitely be empty, but I'll still be on my guard… I just hope that they don't have CCTV… but this is a _school_; why would they?

My target is in sight: I can see the opening to get into the system just by the hall. It's a good thing that I'm so small as otherwise I wouldn't be able to get in – this is probably the reason why Oliver hasn't done it himself and why he has left me to do it. So, carefully so that the device isn't broken, I wriggle through the shaft and into the tunnel, no claustrophobia hitting me: immature things like that don't bother me, not at the minute. No, this is easy…

The vent just where the hall is lies just ahead of where I currently am, so I push it in front of me, knowing I need to put the canisters behind it, about where I am at the minute. So that's all set up… do I go home and get the second device to set it up, or do I finish this one here so that I can leave this building entirely? Decisions, decisions… I suppose it would be best to like go set up the other device and then get all the gas at the same time: they can't be _that_ heavy and it means I only have to go there once… yeah, that's the best option. It also means I'm not lingering in one location for too long, which isn't a good thing incase someone decides to pop by. After all, I heard _so_ many rumours of kids sneaking back to school after games when _I_ was in high school, so maybe it's the truth?

Just incase there _is_ anyone around, as I slide back out of the vent shaft I am careful to be as quiet as possible. I mean, being caught putting that in wouldn't cause _any_ problems at all now, would it? But as I return to the portal, I don't see a single soul… not even a cat. So all the worrying is for nothing.

I dart through the portal and pick up the second, slightly smaller device – less gas is needed at the primary school because their lungs are smaller – before reopening the portal to head through to the primary school. It's like a strange sense of déjà vu – it's the _exact_ same as the high school: I take it that the designer of the schools was the same person, and that they were very lazy, because every single corridor down towards the hall is identically placed in both schools. The only difference I can see so far is that there is no second floor in the primary school… that's it.

The device is soon set up and I smile at the absurdity of how simple it is: I mean, _come __on_! This is Morganville, the only place in the world where curfews are actually _kept_, including by the adults! Surely it should be harder than this to break into a school?

The answer is simple though. It's because the school is for humans, ones who are in the know. If we were in the Elders Council building right now, this would be a _very_ different matter, especially since they would be able to smell me from the off… there'd be no way to keep quiet what I'm doing if it was to vampires, if I could ever manage to poison them by gassing them.

I head through the portal and into Oliver's office, internally cursing as soon as the light office comes into appearance. What if there is someone in there and a door is suddenly appearing? More than that, what if it's _Amelie_ and she finds out that Sam told me about the portals? I think that 'bad' doesn't even cover it.

"Claire," Oliver's voice startles me out of my thoughts as to what if people are in here, which half amuses me on the inside. I was so caught up in wondering if people are in here that, well, I forgot to look to see if people _are_ here. "I believe I informed you that you should _ring_ before you arrive, just incase people are present," he says, his voice harsh and steely… uhoh. This can't be good.

* * *

_Oliver's POV:_

Her appearance startles me. I… I was thinking about how much certain things mean to me and whether or not the last part of my plan will be able to be put into play when she just appears out of nowhere, looking as if she is in her own little dream world.

I don't know why, but the suddenness of her appearance angers me. Part of me thinks that it is because I've just came to the conclusion that I _must_ distance myself from her if I desire this town to be mine. If I want control, I cannot allow these _'__feelings__' _to get in the way: I must remain in control!

And yet here she is, calling the shots so to speak, as to when she arrives here, not bothering to be summoned or to call ahead as she ought to do! More than that, what if I had had someone in here? They would have found out about the portals, which would destroy my chances for getting the town!

Anger consumes me and I stride across to her, thankful I locked the office door. Somehow, I feel my fangs sliding down and my eyes turning crimson as I face her, her face slightly scared… this isn't right. She isn't entirely under my control; there is at least a medium sized chunk of her that would be willing to oppose me. She may be setting up the devices, yet she is not entirely _mine_, as she ought to be right now.

"What are you doing here?" I growl at her, inhumanity growing as I push her back into the wall. She swallows and motions to the gas canisters in the corner… of course, I forgot about that.

"I… I need the gas," she whispers, fear gripping her throat… this most certainly isn't good, since she shouldn't be feeling _anything_ like this! So I force her to look at me, my eyes boring into the depths of her admittedly mainly empty ones… she is still under my control, but not enough, I fear, for her to complete the job.

I lean over to her, ensuring that I keep the anger at the forefront of my mind as I grip her arms, refusing to let her move. She remains still as I lean to kiss her, just until my lips press to hers. Instantly, she is acting as if I am the one she loves, as if this kiss is utterly perfect - and this does nothing to aid my keeping of all feelings locked away.

Everything seems to boil away at the same time as I almost loose myself in her. But I manage to refrain… just. I manage to distance myself enough from her so that I can only remember that I need her to kill for me, and no other reason.

The mixture of direct mind control, so to speak, and the method I usually use to bring her under my control work in conjunction, as I feel her mind relaxing to be subjective to my desires. However, I fear that for the next stage in the plan, the most important before my final stage, I do not know if this shall be enough. Yet I shall not dwell on this fact now, for I have a good week or so before I have to debate how to tackle this issue.

But I cannot concentrate right now. I'm… I'm thirsty, no more than that. I require _her_ blood; I require it to be able to get enough strength to be able to inform her what to do, to manipulate her so that she does not have even the faintest of desires to be with one of her 'friends', to love anyone or anything.

My eyes snap open as I look at her, wondering… I doubt I can bite her in the neck, for Michael is _surely_ coming home soon, but perhaps the elbow crease? That shall not be noticeable, and if anyone _does_ see it is a little red, it is positioned in such a damageable location that _surely_ nobody shall ask questions!

As soon as I realise that I can get away with this, instinct takes over. I do not stop to think of anything but the idea of Claire's luscious blood in my mouth, as it falls down my throat… it's pure heaven to think of, so much so that I _cannot_ resist it any longer.

She remains immobile as I reach for her arm, not knowing or caring what I'm doing. She doesn't care as I slide up her sleeve of her top, doesn't care as I bend my head towards her arm and press my lips to it… she doesn't even seem to care as my fangs pierce her skin, her blood spurting out into my mouth.

It's so much better than I remembered.

Her blood is more than nice, it's _perfect,_ tangy and poignant, burning an indelible path down my throat that I will never forget. Her scent will forever remain etched into my mind, stoppered there by the fragrance of her skin, the way that it is so supple and soft.

It's all I can do not to kill her, or even take more blood than I need for this small task. So I swallow the final mouthful of blood with a heavy heart, regretting the speed at which I have drank the good pint or so I have taken.

As so not to rip the skin further, I am careful as I retract my fangs from her skin, looking up at an entirely emotionless face. She hasn't moved an inch since I brought her under my control, something which I relish.

"Claire, you are to focus _solely_ on this," I say softly, entirely rejuvenated from her blood. "Take the gas and fit it in. once you return to your home, go to bed. When you wake up, you shall be yourself again-" _whatever __that __means_, "and you are to go about your usual daily routine. You shall not remember _any_ of this. Do you understand?"

Slowly, she nods in agreement and turns towards the gas in the corner, automatically rubbing her arm. I sigh and move away to my desk, watching from the other side of the room as she begins to lift one of the canisters with gloved hands. It is almost frightening to see how she can be… but it is a great asset.

It means I can win.

* * *

_3rd person POV of Claire – as writing her like this emotionally devoid person is **too** hard to do in 1st person… it'd just be basic year 3 writing._

She lifts the first of the gas canisters and struggles slightly as she adjusts to having its weight in her arms. But then the weight balances out and she begins to get the hang of holding so much extra mass in her arms than usual, as she heads across to the portal. Her eyes shut as she imagines the secondary school, and then reopen slowly to reveal the darkened corridors she barely left. A smile slides onto her face for a moment as she steps through into the school before slipping away as she reprises her utterly serious assassin mode, so to speak.

Within minutes she has the gas canister in place and is returning for the second to fit into the system. A song is in her head but she cannot figure out what it is, the tune simply present as she spends the walk back to the portal attempting to fill in the gaps to the tune… and she has zero success.

Sighing slightly, she picks up the second of the gas canisters and heads back into the school, not noticing Oliver in the corner of the room watching her intently. She can only see the path back to the school, the path which carries her to her final part of this stage of her mission.

"Balls," she mutters as the can slips, almost gassing her with the poisonous chemical. But she catches it just in time to prevent her would be imminent death and smiles slightly at the brush with danger. The business mode takes over once again and she refocuses entirely on the task at hand, completing the entire device in merely seven point five minutes. The timer is set to go off midway through the assembly and the enormity of having _finished_ this when her eyes feel as if they're going to close almost overwhelms her. It allows her a almost second lease of life, so to speak, increasing her speed as she heads to get the next canister to fit in the primary school here.

"Claire," Oliver's voice startles her as she returns to Common Grounds, his presence once again having gone unnoticed. He holds a CCTV camera in his hands, a small smile on his face. "They already have one in the high school – for riot reasons, I suppose – but can you fit this in the primary school hall, just near the device?"

She nods perfectly perfunctorily, taking the camera and sliding it into her pocket before lifting the final, smaller gas canister and hoisting it into her arms securely as she heads through the portal.

"Claire?" Oliver's voice, once again, calls her back. She turns to see him with a slightly soft expression on his face, one that ought not to be there. "Good…. goodnight."

She nods once again and smiles before heading to complete her job, slotting the device into place with ease. The only slight difference in this case is that, where the vent meets the device, she slots the camera into the top, rubbing the lens on her top beforehand to ensure that it is entirely clear of blotches or anything that could disturb the picture.

Work complete, she decides that it is high time to return home and go to bed – after all, it _is_ almost three in the morning. Even the vampires will be calling it a night soon – no pun intended – so she ought to make it into the world of dreams soon.

She undresses quickly and slips into bed, the problem of the song continuing to plague her. But she still drops off, her last conscious thought being the lyrics of the song, the last line in particular…

_They all fall down._

* * *

_Thoughts?_

_The 'they all fall down' from 'Ring a Ring of Roses' (which, incidentally, originates from the Black Death when everyone died, as I learnt in history) is sort of inspired from the end of Season 8/beginning episode of season 9 of CSI:Miami (WHY DID THEY KILL MY JESSE?) but not really…_

_… and that, my dear readers, was over 4000 words of planning and stuff, with the action being relegated to the next chapter… loool… _

_The CCTV camera is for one reason in particular. You see, without it, we wouldn't be able to see the events that occur, so, although it shall be in 3rd person once again probably, we shall be able to see it._

_I'm going to stop boring you now, so please review!_

_DON'T favourite/alert/**read **without reviewing thanks. _

_Vicky xx_


	21. Chapter 21

_Chapter 21:_

_So, I sort of forgot to update...sorry about that._

_I don't own anything…_

* * *

_Oliver's POV:_

She's done it.

I turn on the feed that links to the CCTV camera in the high school and see the hall filling up with students, all of them not knowing that there's anything wrong whatsoever. All this is to them is the usual, boring assembly that they're forced to attend once per week as the entire school.

Little do they know that one _hell_ of a lot of them won't be making it through with their lives intact; they'll be dead.

Getting bored of listening to the whining of so many teenaged brats, I switch the feeds so that I'm observing the chatter of the smaller children, the ones who I am _slightly_ bothered about killing, but not really. After all, when I get control of Morganville, it shall be shut down within months – there is no such thing as this 'vampire Alzheimer's' that Amelie insists exists, therefore why bother to prolong something that evidently does not work?

Now _this_ is more interesting. I can see that two of the teachers (who are supposed to be married to other stupid humans) are having an affair… not that I particularly _care_ or anything, just it makes for good entertainment. It's even more entertaining since they're standing closest to the vent, therefore if they don't survive; it isn't exactly a loss to the human population of Morganville – or even the world.

The doors are shut and the assembly commences a minute before it is supposed to – yet the hall is smaller, so it shall fill up with gas much faster than the other hall will… but the other school's assembly shall last longer, since the messages are in a much higher quantity.

I don't bother listening to the assembly for the little brats, my eyes simply scouring the screen for the signs of the tendrils of… oh, yes; I forgot that the gas is colourless. I shan't be able to see anything until they begin to cough and collapse…

~x~

Fifteen minutes later, and it's beginning to happen.

I can see the adults coughing slightly, see the children on the front rows shuddering and beginning to loll forwards, unable to support their own body weight. The staff at the back of the room don't seem to notice that there is anything wrong, simply continue to stand there… it's happening, but it's slow and steady, nothing immediately happening to bring my attention into the situation.

In the high school, amazingly, things seem much more progressed. I don't understand it at first, until I realise that there is double the amount of gas in a room which isn't _that_ much bigger.

Screams erupt from the end of the camera, so loud that I worry that anyone in the café (and I include humans in here) will hear the screams and come rushing in. so I turn the volume down and smile, watching as the events unfold…

* * *

_What happens in the school, from the POV of one of the children:_

People are falling.

I don't get what's going on! Why are people collapsing, coughing, choking?

At the front, all I can see are the Tutors and the head on their knees, coughing, their faces turning a puce colour as they get closer to the floor. My fellow students at the front – the year sevens – are following suit, seeming in worse state.

All I can do is stare, look at the way that the effects are evident in rows back, people closer and closer to me are coughing and collapsing to the floor.

And then I react.

I run, run screaming for the door with the fellow kids at the back with me, with the couple of adults who survey at the back to make sure we're not talking. There's hardly anyone able to make it to the doors, able to run out into the clean air of the hallway, feeling weak from the exposure to whatever it was.

I can only guess that it is gas – what else could cause such reactions without any visibile ailments.

"Has anyone got a mobile phone?" the teacher at the front of our little group heading out to the grounds yells back at us, about half of us nodding in agreement. "Call the police, the ambulance services… everyone who can help."

We nod as she smashes a glass cover over a button and presses it, sending a wailing throughout the school. Water begins to pour down, mixing in with the tears on our faces, giving us a little boost as in getting rid of the gas from our systems.

I call the police station, who don't seem to believe me when I explain what's going on.

"Please, please, you _have_ to help – there's been an attack in the school hall; I don't know what's going on but people are falling over and we had to get out otherwise we'd have collapsed as well… oh _God_, I think they're dead!" I wail, the person on the other end of the phone allowing me to finish my sentence before contradicting me.

"Are you playing a prank?" he asks, entirely serious.

"_No_; you can speak to a teacher if you want!" I exclaim, outraged through the tears – surely he ought to take this _seriously_, rather than just presume it's a joke!

I hand the phone over to the teacher and stalk away, unable to see anything. My friends are still in there – I only sat at the back because I was _late_! That's the only reason – I'm only year nine, but if you're late, you have to sit with the year elevens! My friends are in there… my _sister_ is in there! And yet I know if I go back in there, my parents will have no children.

Do I save myself or risk my life to save my sister, when we could both die?

"You can't go back in there!" the new teacher yells at me, pulling me back as I try and run back into the school. I can hear the slow progression of other kids coming out of the building, hear their screams for help, hear the teachers with them yelling to see if there are any others out – obviously there must be, if the alarm is going off.

In the distance, I can hear the slow wail of sirens, the first cars evidently just leaving the station. Shouldn't they be more prepared than this? I mean, true there was that bomb thing a few weeks ago, but that shouldn't impact on _children's lives_! We could all be de—oh god, what about the primary school?

I should head there… I should... but I don't think I can do anything there. I need to stay here.

It'll kill me.

* * *

_Oliver's POV:_

From what I have been able to see of the devastation in there, it looks identical to what I wanted to happen. Scores and scores of people lie on the floor, coughing and trying to crawl to the limited fresh air coming in through the doors the lucky people escaped through.

The situation over at the primary school is pretty similar. There's the majority of the children on the floor, some of them having escaped, but the ones on the floor are obviously dead. Their lungs are evidently undeveloped enough to even contemplate fighting back against my wave of attack… and the teachers couldn't either, which isn't really a shame. Unsurprisingly, the adulterers near to the vent have succumbed.

Claire has done this perfectly. I see no issue in her sleeping this morning, since she evidently stayed up late to sort this out.

My phone rings on the desk and I pick it up, smiling slightly as I see Amelie's name on the caller id.

"What can I do for you, Amelie?" I ask smoothly, turning off the CCTV incase she can hear the screams issuing from it.

"There… there has been an attack at the schools, Oliver," I have the satisfaction of hearing her voice quiver, this being an attack that has shaken her. "I need your help to assess the situation, for we cannot allow the humans in to see their dead for they do not have the ability to locate the source and turn it off without succumbing themselves. Will you help?" she is actually giving me the choice, though I know I have to do it in order to get the CCTV camera out and ensure Claire cannot be found to be the perpetrator.

"Of course," I evidently surprise her, smiling slightly again. "I'll be there shortly. Good luck."

And, with that, I walk out of the office and to my car. Claire can come down later. But, for now, stage three of the plan is complete.

Now for the big one…

* * *

_Please don't read, alert or favourite without reviewing please - I do enforce the latter two._

_10 reviews for an update._

_Vicky xx_

_Vicky xx_


	22. Chapter 22

_Chapter 22:_

_I don't own anything_

* * *

_Oliver's POV:_

It's even more chaotic than the news feed showed me on the camera. Either that, or everything has turned ten times more desperate in the fifteen or so minutes that have elapsed since I destroyed the camera receiver and headed over here.

They evidently have managed to dispel enough of the gas to allow the emergency services into the main building of both schools – not that they are particularly doing much _saving_. Only three children were able to be resuscitated in the primary school, and at least one of them was very near to death, something I saw as I whipped in to remove the camera and gas cylinder, using a portal to place them in my office before returning back to the "scene of the crime".

I head into the secondary school building and see that, slightly unfortunately, more people have gotten out than I previously thought. Evidently the back doors were easy to get out of – to chain them shut would definitely prove that something has happened…

More are being resuscitated in here, also; of course this would be the case – their lungs are more developed than the dozens of dead primary school children, which is only a shame because it will perhaps hinder the size of population of the humans in this town. Everyone seems occupied and I cannot find Amelie, so perhaps I can remove the gas cylinder from here also and have the authorities (for what they're worth) struggling to decipher what on earth is going on.

Slipping up to the vent where I could see the gas leaking out of, I reach into it, pretending to be bending over to observe the woman lying there. The bottle in here is entirely empty, small enough to be concealed in the pocket of the coat I hastily threw on until I can get back to my office to dispose of the evidence.

"Oliver," Amelie's voice disturbs my contemplation of where to bury the evidence, her words whipping through the air. As I turn to her, I can see the events that have occurred have disturbed her; there is a shadow within her eyes that wasn't there before, a melancholy feeling to her stance that has me one hundred percent believing that she has been rocked by the events of the past hours. As she was supposed to be; I didn't plan this out for months just for her not to be bothered – Amelie has always had a soft spot for children, hence why she gave them protection until they are eighteen.

And now that protection has been foiled.

"This is…well, I cannot say that it is good in any circumstances," I ensure my voice is appropriately grim, yet with the edge that, as per my usual stance towards humans, suggests I'm not entirely bothered about the loss of human life.

Her eyes narrow as she looks at me before turning her attention to around the entire room. "Oh, this is worse than 'not good'," she sighs, her eyes locking upon a blonde girl being carried out on a stretcher, dead. The sheet covering her has slipped to reveal an arm hanging down in midair, her skin pearly white besides for red blotches beginning to form, her eyes half open and dazed looking.

Dead from phosgene gas poisoning – the effects only coming into effect hours after death in relatively small quantities – she must have been near to the source.

"How many dead?" I inquire and she shrugs her shoulders delicately, waving her hand around the room to show the sheer vastness of the dead. Many are piled on top of one another from where they have fallen, limbs splayed out randomly.

"Enough," she murmurs. "The damage to this town is immense, Oliver, even worse than the consequences to our people from the bomb. We have an enemy within the walls of our town and we must find them before they attempt to exterminate the rest of us," the steeliness to her tone returns as she promises revenge, making me even more desperate to hide the possibility of links to myself or Claire. Not that she _would_ find out, for I have been so meticulous in both my planning and my covering of my actions that for her to find out would be for Claire or me to tell her.

"Let me be in charge of the interrogations," I spy a chance to allow my 'evil' side through to the forefront in a way that both hides my involvement and allows me to remind the pesky humans that I am _not_ the hippie I must pretend to be upon Amelie's orders daily. No, I am not and this shall be a perfect time for me to enjoy the experience of a little human torture.

Her eyebrows raise and she shakes her head, not even a glimmer of a smile upon her lips. No, she continues to appear to be disturbed by the events that are continuing to unfold in the school, yet almost separate to us here; a girl has been found alive underneath a pile of dead bodies, the air continuing to be fresh there – it reminds me of the time of Concentration Camps, when those at the bottom of the pile could appear to be dead and then dig themselves out of the hole, being the only survivors from the extermination camps. But the events in the room have unnerved the woman who professes to not care about humans – evidently, this theory is not inclusive of children…though I doubt another besides me shall have the chance to see this.

"No," she replies suddenly, her tone harsher than I perhaps expected with her appearance; once again, I have been reminded that perceptions are deceiving, especially in the case of Amelie. What can at times appear innocent and virtuous can in fact be manipulating and deceptive, truly her father's daughter.

"No…?" having spent so long waiting for an answer, I have half forgotten what I have requested, yet also phrase the word as an opening for her to explain her reasoning as to why I cannot do this.

Exasperated, she takes a step back and places her hand on her hip, taking a step closer to the carnage in the hall. "I know you, Oliver," she doesn't, as per usual, give anything away with her opening sentence. "You would bring in every single human who has ever done anything against you, and then manage to concoct an entire plan that contains them all in it, fabricating evidence to do so."

"I would not do such a preposterous thing!" I pretend to be affronted though I know, if I had the time to be able to actually do this, I would.

She almost smiles and nods, most likely forgetting the reason for this debate, even in the current location. "Oh, but Oliver, you would. I cannot allow another atrocity to hit the human population of this town; we have seen the effects today that shall scar generations to come – to inflict needless pain on innocents is both wrong and unnecessary."

I bow my head, not knowing what to say in response; to argue too _much_ because that would appear suspicious, even for my bloodthirsty desires for the humans of this town, yet to be entirely submissive would perhaps arouse even more suspicion.

"I suppose you could be correct," I sigh, looking around pointedly at the wailing people being held back from entering the hall as the dead are rolled into bodybags. "They have suffered enough for the moment; I only hope that you find the person who has done this."

She smiles now, enough bitterness in her eyes and the smile to suggest that she finds this slightly vengeful. "I require you to have Claire look around the building; she is the only one I know of, able to be out of their home, who is capable of having at least a _chance_ of finding the perpetrator of this. After all, it is too similar to the bombing to not be being executed by the same person. She should have a chance of discovering what perhaps we do not see." I can see why she desires me to call Claire; if I had not gotten ahold of her when I did, she would belong to Amelie now, I am sure of it.

"I shall call her here now," I move my hand towards my pocket and freeze, remembering about the location of the cylinder. Amelie's eyes narrow at this but she says nothing, simply roaming over the front of my jacket as if nothing is wrong.

"Perhaps you ought to buy a slightly larger size, Oliver; evidently your self-consciousness is getting the better of you," her comment is said in jest, yet it sets my motionless heart on edge for the fear that she could have easily asked for me to open my jacket.

"I suppose I shall," I smile ever so slightly and begin to walk towards the smaller, hidden exit in the corner of the room. "Goodbye, Amelie, I shall see you later."

She does not respond, simply turns away from me instantly and focuses her attention on a small child who I can just about see is breathing. How strange…yet I pay no attention to her and make for the exit, ensuring my scent reaches the outside before turning back and summoning a portal to take me instantly back to my office.

Here, I gather the incriminating evidence and run to the corner of the office, lifting the rug to reveal the trapdoor underneath. I twist the knob in the particular way (though an elderly vampire could simply twist it open) and throw the items inside before replacing everything once again.

Then I move to the desk and reach for the telephone, dialling Claire's mobile number and waiting for her to answer, which she does in a sleepy voice.

"Hello?" she whispers, having evidently not looked at the caller id to see that it is me calling her.

"Claire, there has been some sort of disaster at the Morganville Primary and Secondary schools," I inform her in a grave voice, remembering that she has no memory of either anything to do with my manipulation or her part in that. "Amelie has requested, and I have granted this request, that you are to head there and to try and piece together the events that have occurred. You have reprieve from your lessons for the next few days until you have scoured both buildings for anything that could possibly assist. Do you understand?"

"Uh…sure?" she sounds more awake, most likely from the use of the word 'disaster', yet she doesn't sound entirely sure what she is doing.

"The only class I believe you ought to keep up with, for you have admitted your skills are not as…_developed_ in this area, is English Literature with Sam Glass," I carry on, a random brainwave hitting me as I decide this is the best option to take. "Therefore, you shall work upon the school until eight pm, then sleep until he picks you up for your class, then sleeping until you wake up. I then desire you to return to the school for as long as it is necessary for you to find something, if there is anything to be found."

"I got it, Oliver," she sounds, to my dismay, more like her usual self – almost as if she has taken on a certain Eve-esque stance to life whilst her friend is in hospital. "But since Michael is still gone and Shane…Shane's gone forever, can I go see Eve first?" her voice wavers for a minute and I recognise that my vocabulary choice probably didn't reaffirm her happiness, simply reminded her that she has already lost one friend forever, one in a coma so deep she will never probably recover as well as being mere metres from a blast that killed dozens. If there are now hundreds of children dead, I can accept that she will be more than slightly shaken.

"One hour, starting now, then I want you heading over to the school," I am deliberately harsh, for the simple reason that I need to be myself for weeks now. The next stage of my plan shall be put into action soon, yet I need to be strong and show her that _I_ am in charge, not her. No feelings I have for her – if I can label my position in terms of her as _feelings _- are to be shown for one long time, until perhaps shortly before I need her under my control again. To bring her under that time, it took a great deal of strength and I cannot see even me being able to replicate it for at least a short period of time.

"Fine, see ya later," I hear the unhappiness in her voice, as well as the eagerness to get off the phone. But then, just as I presume she is about to hang up, she asks a question: "When is Michael home?"

"I know nothing of his welfare, girl, so do not pester me with things I have no knowledge of, when I have been generous to allow you an hour of your own time," I find myself snapping at her, then instantly regretting it for reasons that continue to remain unknown in me. "Go, Claire, and I expect a report on your preliminary feelings tonight," I slam the phone down, breathing heavily, before sitting down in my chair.

This could be a _long_ day.

* * *

_So, thoughts?_

_Please don't alert/favourite without reviewing, thanks!_

_Vicky xx_


	23. Chapter 23

_Chapter 23:_

_**I don't own anything!**_

_I got two reviews last chapter; it'd be greatly appreciated if you reviewed, if you read. Thank you. I won't update as (relatively) frequently as I'm trying to get back to, otherwise._

* * *

_Claire's POV:_

The phone rings, startling me from the stupor I was in with such a jolt it feels as if I'm having a heart attack. Nothing seems to be coming back to me from last night other than the fact that I am ridiculously tired, something which would worry me more if I had the time to think about it. Same as to why I can't actually remember anything from the past day or two, other than going to see Oliver…strange, but I don't have time to mull it over now.

Just before the call cuts out, I pick up the phone and answer it with an extremely groggy tone. In all honesty, I don't _care_ who is on the phone – I'm knackered and Michael is meant to be coming home in the next few days, so I don't want to be like Miss Cranky because I've not had any sleep…or maybe I have, I can't remember.

There isn't a response for a second or two and I begin to hope that it's a prank call so that I can go back to sleep. Unfortunately, it isn't.

"Claire, there has been some sort of disaster at the Morganville Primary and Secondary schools," naturally, it's Oliver on the other end of the phone, the words grasping my attention as much as possible to be done. But, gone is the usual calm and bored sounding tone he has when he speaks to me; he sounds strangely…_gleeful_. It's not something I would usually link towards Oliver and his emotions, which is what I presume jerks me further into consciousness. That or simply the fact that it's _Oliver_ on the phone has done this; after all, he's my 'Protector' and, so far, the only times he has called me have brought bad news.

And then there's the issue of there being something wrong with the schools in Morganville – what could have gone on?

"Amelie has requested, and I have granted this request, that you are to head there and to try and piece together the events that have occurred. You have reprieve from your lessons for the next few days until you have scoured both buildings for anything that could possibly assist. Do you understand?" he continues, asking me a question at the end as his voice seems to change slightly, almost as if he's realising how he sounds.

But whatever's gone on _must_ be bad if Amelie wants me to get involved. Since I didn't sign with her – and I suppose that's knocked the ego of a vampire – she's pissed with me…but this request has shown that there must be a great need for extra help to sort this out. And it's to do with _children_…somehow, it wakes me up further and I actually sit up before responding.

"Uh…sure?" I can't bring myself to form an entire sentence, not awake enough for that, but each passing second brings more clarity to my thoughts. What if it's like the bomb? What if there's schools destroyed, innocent children murdered?

I half zone out for the rest of the time he speaks, hearing that I have to complete investigations till about eight pm as I have to keep up with English Lit for some reason, before I decide to take the plunge and ask to do something for _me_. I've been alone for so long – I need someone who I can talk to. Shane's disappeared because otherwise Amelie would have had him killed; I still don't know when Michael will be home; Eve is currently continuing to be unconscious in the hospital, so I can't talk to her – or at least get a response. I can go talk to her though.

"I got it, Oliver," I say to him, trying to make myself sound as strong and confident as I can before then requesting to go see Eve. It's the only way I can perhaps get him to agree to letting me go, to have a core of steel as I request for something when I'm supposed to be doing something for the Founder…but I don't care. He's probably not going to let me go anyway because this is Oliver and since when does he let me do something I want to do?

But, to my partial amazement, he agrees to let me visit Eve for an hour…even though it's only actually about thirty minutes since that's how long it will take me to get over there, but it's still better than nothing!

Even though I talk through the rest of the conversation, I can't actually focus on anything other than the fact that this day is just going to be so emotionally draining; however, the first part, at least, has me almost excited; Oliver may not be concerned for when Michael is returning, but the fact that I have a chance to actually speak to Eve. She may be unable to respond, but I can just have a few minutes of near normality to talk to my friend about everything that's going on.

He hangs up and I look at the clock – I have to be leaving the hospital to head for the school in fifty seven minutes and I'm not even dressed yet. But I jump out of bed, no longer tired it seems, unless it's simply the adrenaline coursing through me that mimics a lack of sleep deprivation. I don't know, but something I _do_ know is that I'm ready to run to the hospital within three and a half minutes flat, an absolute mess but not caring because I've managed to nab myself time to go see Eve when I normally don't have the chance to.

It doesn't feel like she's only been in here less than three weeks; it really doesn't. and it really doesn't feel like there's anything wrong with the schools; outside, the day is bright and sunny, the usual lack of people around Morganville not making the town seem empty…because it always does.

.

Within fifteen minutes, I'm in the hospital and running down to Eve's room, noting an extremely busy A&E but not bothering to pay attention to who is in there because _Eve_ is more important at the minute. I know I should be thinking about what Amelie wants me to do – what has happened that she wants me to investigate – but I can't because this is the one time recently that I've had a chance to be remotely happy.

It's sad that my happiest time of the minute is visiting a person who is most likely never going to wake up again, but that's what's going on in Morganville.

"Hey, Eve," I say as I sit down next to the girl who's basically been neglected for the past few days. Nobody has been able to see her because of so much happening – I don't know if we'd have actually left if the bomb hadn't have gone off, but that's life for you. "How are you?"

I wait an appropriate amount of time for her to have possibly have replied as I pick up her hand and squeeze it gently. Her skin is almost the same temperature as a vampire's, icy and entirely non-Eve because there's not a hint of her black nail varnish on her fingertips whatsoever. Just that tells me Eve isn't here with us at the minute…

I chatter away to her for another half an hour, one eye always on the clock as I wait for the time to come that means I have to go face the horrors of whatever Oliver has signed me up for, down to Amelie's request. It will be horrific, I'm positive, especially if I've been allowed something to hopefully cheer me up slightly before I go. Unless, perhaps, it's really mundane and then…no, it won't be because Oliver used the word disaster. The last time he used disaster, it was in terms of the bomb – and that was a _massive_ disaster.

"Bye, Eve," I murmur as I press my lips to her cheek, the sheen and utter perfection of her skin another indicator to her lack of being conscious – it's like polished marble, utterly perfect, which just isn't Eve. She's the slapdash one of the four of us – well, the most – the one who is never, _ever_ perfect but she's better that way.

Now, she's just like a stranger.

One minute before the end of my hour, I close the door softly behind me on my way out of Eve's room, wishing I could stay with her at the same time as wanting to get as far away from her as possible. She's not the Eve I know and love…and she's got to stay here, whilst I go to find out what I have to do, what's happened down at the schools.

~x~

Before I even get onto the street where the schools are, I know it's bad. There are police cars everywhere, ambulances, children screaming and running around as they try to find one another; parents are yelling for their children to come, trying to get over this barrier I can see just in front of me.

And, in front of that, I can just about see lines and lines of white sheets on the floor, lumps beneath them that I can only presume are bodies…oh god, what's _happened_?

Slowly, I advance towards the barrier, dodging the weeping mothers and fathers I can see around – and now I understand what's happened. I don't know _how_ but somehow there are dozens, if not more, children dead.

And I presume Amelie wants me to find out what's happened.

"Excuse me, miss, but you can't get through here," one of the police officers on the barrier stops me, evidently having had a lot of people try to get through. I can see the tension on his face, be able to infer that there's things beyond here that I really don't want to see.

"Oliver sent me," I whisper this, trying not to make it obvious to everyone that I'm under the protection of a vampire that's hated by the majority of the towns people. But, as to confirm my story, I lift my left arm to show the bracelet encasing my wrist to show the man whose eyes instantly widen as he takes in the colour. It's bronze, the colour of Oliver's Protection and I guess it's obvious that only those who have potential or worth are signed by Oliver…and then I've been sent out here.

His expression becomes much more grim after less than a second, pulling the barrier ever so slightly open so I can slip through before he places it back where it was before. However, before I can move away, he grabs my arm.

"Be careful in there, kid," I can just about hear this over the suddenly louder screaming – another body has been brought out. "You're young and…what's in there is enough to drive the best of us mad," he continues, shaking his head slowly.

"I know," I duck my head, knowing that whatever has gone on in here I don't want to be privy to – but I have to. "Thanks for the warning. I'll see you in a bit?" I'm not sure why I say this; perhaps it's simply to feel as if we've a connection through this horrific event, yet he nods anyway before returning to his post as he lets go of my arm.

As I walk slowly towards the building, I wonder who is in charge. Richard Morrell is dead, as is Hannah Moses, both killed in the bomb, and I can't help but wonder if the same person is behind the bomb and this attack, whatever it is. It seems a little coincidental that _two_ major disasters would both be occurring at the same time; however, if this is natural, it _could_ just be coincidence. Yet I'm not going to find out until I'm in there.

Someone looks at me funnily for a minute as I approach the door to the primary school, yet they soon move to the side and let me into the halls without a word – I suppose they know who I am.

And then it hits me.

I thought it is bad outside; it's one hundred thousand times worse inside, screaming, crying, paramedics trying to treat the tiniest of children…defibrillators are everywhere, bags of oxygen, gas masks – there's everything that I can see would be used in a treatment for a gas attack…the school has been _gassed_.

Almost falling over, I stagger through the stacks of children, past those who have been deemed clinically dead and are waiting to be moved to a position of respect, past those grieving on the floor, past those unable to go any further perhaps for both physical and mental reasons.

When you think about the fact that these are children up to about a maximum of _eleven_, it sickens you even more.

As I approach the main hall, I stop and take a huge breath, knowing I'm not going to be able to deal with what's inside, yet I _have_ to. I need to find out what's happened, since that's the job I've been given to do.

So I open the door.

And face chaos.

There's even _more_ going on inside here, if possible, and I instantly shove myself against the wall to allow someone to be wheeled out of the hall in a panic to get them to the hospital. It seems as if it's emptier in here than outside, yet there's even more bodies.

But they're silent.

Dead.

"…Help…me…" a voice so quiet I think I imagine it at first comes from the floor near to my feet and I jump backwards in horror to find the smallest girl down there. She…she's almost underneath a huge table, her face pale and drawn as she fights to breathe.

And she looks about six.

"HELP!" I scream, falling to my knees to pull her into my arms without thinking about it, not caring what's killing her _because_ she's dying. She coughs and I rub her back, trying to be as gentle as I can as I call for help, call for someone to come and help her.

But nobody comes.

"Ok, sweetie, what's your name?" I ask the girl as softly as I can, narrowing my eyes as I look at her legs to see she's caught it somehow under the table. She's trapped here, trapped and has no way of getting out with just me here.

"Dani," she murmurs as loudly as she can, her voice still barely audible to me.

The hall is empty now – of the living, at least. There's me and Dani left; everyone else is on their way back from taking others out…and it's deathly silent.

"My name's Claire," I continue, taking Dani's hand and squeezing it gently, feeling as the warmth slides from her hands as I even sit here. As each second passes, she struggles to breathe more and more, her eyelids fluttering to be near shut. "Do you know what happened?" I press to keep her awake, keep her fighting even though her lungs must be collapsing from the inside.

The doors are open and the gas has evidently dissapitated enough for it to be safe in here, yet there is a tickle in the back of my throat that I ignore as I blink back tears for this little girl.

"There…sitting here…" she manages to say, lifting her other hand to show a place across the room. "People…fell…it _hurts_!" she screams the last word, sounding as if the agony she is in is indescribable…which I suppose it is.

"I know, Dani, I know," I murmur softly, trying to stem the tears flowing from my eyes to be strong for her. "You'll get out, I promise," I say anything to keep her fighting here with me – she's six and has lasted longer than most of the others.

_Finally_ people sound as if they're returning and I call for them, call for them to come and help this little girl.

But it's too late.

Her eyes close and no matter how much I try and revive her, no matter how many times I call her name, she's gone.

I couldn't do enough to save her.

Wrenching myself away from her as the paramedics take her body outside, I let the tears fall as I am once again left alone – yet this time, there's not even the dead in here. I'm entirely alone, left to figure out what has caused this monstrosity to occur in here _and_ the other school – as there must have been the same reaction in the secondary school as to here as well. So I wipe my eyes furiously and try to compose myself enough to search, enough to do it for Dani, the girl who died because I didn't have a way to save her. It's for her that I'm doing this, not anyone else/

And so I begin.

~x~

Seven thirty in the evening rolls around and I'm almost finished writing a preliminary report for Oliver. I know what's happened – they've died from the gas exposure to their bodies. There's one hundred and four casualties across the entire school, including staff, and forty seven others in critical care – they're not expected to make it, but we can't tell the parents that.

Everything is wrong. Everything has happened and nobody knows how or why or _anything_ about the way that it's happened – we've had sniffer dogs in to try and find the source (led by me, since I'm in charge of this) and they led me to this empty vent which I suppose is where it initiated from, but there's no sign of anything that indicates foul play.

In all honesty, this report has almost nothing in it, nothing substantial whatsoever because there's _nothing_ that I can know that he can't find out. But I have my suspicions about this, suspicions about why this has happened _now_.

Someone is playing games in Morganville. Someone is playing games and destroying everybody's lives.

I am going to find that someone.

* * *

_So, this chapter seriously took me _**more**_ than a week to write. It just wouldn't work._

**_Don't_**_ favourite/alert /**read** without reviewing, thank you!_

_Vicky xx_


	24. Chapter 24

_Chapter 24:_

_I don't own anything_

* * *

_One week later_

_Claire's POV:_

"Michael!" I squeal his name as he walks through the door, wrapping my arms around his neck in a reactive movement. He grins and hugs me back, the closeness reminding me that he's a vampire because his skin is colder than ice. But this is inconsequential to me; it's _Michael_ – there is no way that he would hurt me. "You're back!"

"Yep, I got that when I walked through the door." He smiles as he speaks, the hint of Michael humour in his voice that I've missed. This house has been desolate for weeks now without him, Shane _and_ Eve; whilst it's only Michael back, it's one hundred _thousand_ times better than it just being me, alone. It's been desolate in this huge, empty house without _any_ company other than when Sam stayed that one time – but he didn't belong here, not really, even though he used to own the house…something which confuses me slightly as to why he moved out, but that's not an issue to me.

"No need for the smart answers, mister," I respond as we walk further into the house, shutting the door behind him on the way. "I thought Sam was bringing you back?" I question as Michael instantly goes to the living room, heading towards his guitar.

As he turns around to face me, I'm struck by how different he is. There's the same physical appearance, naturally, because he's a vampire…but his expression is entirely different. Gone is the easy smile, the carefree manner that shows that he's just relaxed – he's uptight, controlled, as if he's prepared to spring into being a vampire the second that he's faced with an adversary. It's worrying, dangerous beyond belief, and I almost recoil backwards before I remember that this is still _Michael_, that he almost died and that I can't take it out on him because it wasn't his fault.

"He did; he dropped me off as he said he needed to do some work or something," he smiles slightly and a touch of the old Michael shines through; the non-corruptible angel has a brief flicker of vitality without the restraints of vampirism…and, for this one second, it feels as it did before everything happened.

"Oh good," I speak without really thinking about it, more focused on how different he is. It's more than the obvious emotional difference – there's something darker inside of him, the goodness in him being changed towards the oppressive darkness that is inside most of the vampires around here.

"Claire, are you ok?" his expression softens, as if he's realised how he's looking, and he moves around to hug me again, taking a deep breath as he nears me, almost to show how he doesn't crave my blood. Something which, I guess, is a relief since my blood is pretty much what got us into this mess in the first place…or, at least Shane's mess.

"No," I confess, regretting it instantly because he's only just came home from near death and now I'm already burdening him with my issues.

His eyes widen and loose any of the solid blue that's evidently been forming for the past few weeks – he's back to being just Michael; I can feel it in just the air around us. "Claire, what's wrong?" he asks me gently, the tone causing tears to spill out of my eyes with no means of stopping them – or even slowing them down, which is really irritating me.

"It doesn't matter; you've just come back – I shouldn't be bothering you with what's been going on," I shake my head even as he takes me to the sofa and sits down right next to me, his face expectant for knowledge.

"I've been trapped away in a building with no way of getting out for _weeks_, Claire; I know nothing of what's gone on other than what Sam's told me," his voice is harsher, more bitter, but I can't really say anything about that. "Just tell me what's wrong, otherwise what's the point in us being together? We've been separated for weeks now, so if I don't know what's been going on, how can I help?" his voice cracks slightly and I can't feel anything other than sorrow for him. He's been through so much and been told nothing.

"Right, so after you'd been…taken away, we spoke to Amelie and she basically told me to get lost, so Sam took me home after I gave you some blood," I start right from the beginning, feeing slightly guilty because I'm scared that he's going to be saddened that he drank my blood. "Right, so then basically I had school…and, I'm not sure, it goes a bit hazy every now and then, but Amelie stopped by to 'check up' on me, which confused me a little."

"_Amelie_ came by?" he confirms, his eyes widening, but he doesn't further on what he's said.

"Yep…and then…I don't know, nothing happened for a little while," I shrug and wipe the tears away from my eyes before continuing. "Then…then, last week, someone gassed the schools. _Both_ of them – the primary and the secondary…they used some gas and I-I had to go in and try and work out what happened…oh, Michael, it was _awful-_" the sobs return and I can't continue, the wrenching pain from my chest cutting off any means of talking.

"It's ok," he whispers as he pulls me in for a hug to comfort me, trying to stop my crying. "You couldn't do anything more, Claire, you did your best, I'm sure."

"I still don't know who did it," I reply harshly, my voice cold, this being directed towards myself. "I've had an entire week, but all I know is what gas did it and how the death toll is still rising. It's madness out there, Michael; every parent wants to know what's going on, which has the police – who are already strained, since Richard died – stressed, who pressure Oliver since Amelie permitted him to take the lead on this…and I haven't got a clue what the hell he expects me to do. All I know is that I'm not getting anywhere and there are no leads to find whoever has done it."

He nods slowly and closes his eyes. "Claire, there are things happening in Morganville that you can't affect, I can't affect and even _Sam_ can't affect. They're bigger than this and I can bet you anything that Oliver has got something to do with it. Stay away from him if you can, which I know is hard given how he owns you now, but just be as careful as you can." His tone is urgent as he speaks, his eyes flashing open to power home his message.

"I-" I begin to agree when my phone rings with the special ringtone that is reserved for Oliver only; he wants me for something. Whenever he's rang recently, he's wanted progress reports, wanting deeper knowledge as to the perpetrator – or even the cause – of this attack…well, he's slackened off since I found out the gas type, which gives me a sinister feeling inside that he knows who did it. I would _never_ say that…but it seems almost as if he has and he's trying to protect them – for either a personal connection or his own personal gain, of which the latter is more likely.

After all, who does Oliver care for in this town besides himself?

"Don't answer it, Claire," Michael tells me harshly, having seen the name on the front of my phone. "Pretend you left it somewhere or that you had it on silent. Do _anything_ but answer it."

"I _have_ to," I stress, my finger in position to flip the cover over. "This is my _life_, Michael; don't forget I'm human and I'm signed to the deadliest vampire in Morganville. If I make one wrong move, I'm dead."

And, with this, I answer the phone.

"Oliver," I say his name without any tone to my voice, waiting to hear what he says, as Michael stands up to leave.

I stop listening to the phone call as I watch Michael leave the room, his body language reading the same as it did when he first came home, and I just about hear him say, "if you think Oliver's the deadliest, you've forgotten about Amelie."

I don't agree with him, because Amelie's affected by everything that happens whereas Oliver just…isn't. He's got something inside of him that scares me more than I could possibly admit, something that tells me he doesn't give a toss about anyone or anything other than getting power in this town.

And that's the thing that keeps me alive.

For now.

* * *

_Oliver's POV:_

"I require you in my office," I inform her, my voice low as if to keep the conversation private from others…in the empty room. It has grown to be a habit to try and conceal communication with her – or, rather, excessive communication outside of what is expected of the general Patron relationship – and this has evidently continued through to this moment in time.

"Now?" she asks idiotically, as if I would want her at another time. No, now it is time for the next stage of my plan to work, whilst there is still chaos within Morganville. It must be executed within the coming days, the most heinous act she will have committed thus far, and will damage the 'Founder' more than anything else. It will devastate her, along with the loss of her City Hall and so many of the new generation of Morganville.

"No, I simply desired to inform you now that I would like you to visit within the next month or so," I reply sarcastically, trying desperately to be prepared for when she is here. I cannot lose control like I did last time and almost give up on the plan for _her_; conversely, I also cannot allow this to go too far and allow myself her…at the cost of the final stage of the plan.

The plan is the overarching piece of this entire operation, the detailed, well thought out list of things that _must_ be followed for this to be a success. There have been minor modifications along the way – even from the start, due to the perpetrator changing to Claire, along with Michael's near fatal injury – yet this has been the set of rules by which I have followed as much as possible. After all, why would I have wasted many hours writing that plan, scouring the country for pieces of equipment so Amelie would not be suspicious, just for it to be wasted?

"Uh…you mean to come now, then?" she has to confirm this and I snort, almost unable to believe that a girl of her apparent intellect has to confirm something that is sarcastic.

"Yes, I mean to come now," I say simply, allowing a harder edge into my tone that I am fearful my heart – if such an inanimate piece of muscle could have thoughts like this – desires never to be used in regards to her again, something which could well be the failing of this plan.

"I'll be right over," she's hasty as she speaks, as if she's keen to do as I command, which doesn't particularly concern me. All it means is that I have a few moments less to compose myself before she arrives and I must complete the hardest task to do with her to date.

The only possible positive is that this will prepare me for the final stage, merely in the next week or two, and will make me aware of just _how_ much power and control I must have over her to ensure it is completed. She _must_ be mine for this stage, for it is the finale that shall result in my control of Morganville entirely.

I don't bother to respond to her, merely cut off the phone call to her. It isn't anything that I wouldn't normally do to anyone, yet there is the strangest sense within me that she shouldn't be spoken to like this. There is something about her that is gripping itself into my brain, as though to—I can't even contemplate this now; I must focus upon ensuring that she is entirely under my control as I move to take a deeper grip over the control of Morganville. She can be a focus later, when I decide whether I can let her live or not – for now, however, she _must_ remain a tool within this plan of mine to have complete control of Morganville, to be the ruler for as long as I desire this experiment to have life within it.

She _cannot_ be anything else. She just cannot.

My eyes focus upon the piles and piles of paper on the far side of the room which contain the plan, the plan which she is so deeply connected with, she _must_ be here to complete it. She must be completely controlled by me for this to work, for why would she even consider this otherwise? There is something far more sinister about harming _this_ person so irreversibly that will require all of my effort and more – because the two main acts she has committed thus far have been focused primarily upon those she doesn't know; they have been swipes from afar. However…this one shall affect her perhaps even more than the injury to Eve Rosser, because their relationship has been growing stronger since other blows have been dealt to them. This shall be an effort on my behalf also, for there is no way for her to be mine if I am not one hundred percent focused on this.

She is stronger than before, yet weaker, more susceptible, at the same time. I have so many openings to her brain, her heart– yet I must ensure that they are almost wholly captured, unlike the mere percentage control I had previously. Claire Danvers must not be able to even _think_ for herself, even in mere snippets, for otherwise this could entirely be lost.

_Knock, knock_, goes the door and I jump ever so slightly, having become so focused upon how I _must_ ensure that she is mine. There cannot be any romance in regards to the next few minutes, though I know a large proportion of me desires there to be, and she _must_ be controlled.

There is no other way. She cannot be allowed to run free, be allowed to remember even the slightest of things from this.

"Enter," I call from my chair, not moving an inch as she walks in, closing the door automatically behind her. There seems something in her face that gives me the impression that something is different – that and her heartbeat's increase in speed tells me that she's…almost scared. And this is something she ought to have been from the very beginning; perhaps, for the first time, her senses are coming through and she's realising how she ought to have reacted for the entire time she has been under my Protection.

"Uh…" she doesn't know what to say as I motion for her to sit in the chair in front of me, my eyes roaming her face as she sits down. It's almost as if she's only just woken up from the dream life she's been living recently, as if the events of present are only catching up to her now.

"Claire, I have called you here for I wish to discuss with you the progress you made with the…ah, _unfortunate_ events of late," I inform her, my voice inflicting no emotion whatsoever. She breathes a sigh of relief that I hear without qualm, as though she expected something worse. I cannot allow this to seem as if I am giving her praise, for this will not wash as an adequate reason for her to remember for this visit. "You have achieved results that the police would not have gained for weeks to come…however, you have not solved this case.

"I agreed with Amelie that I would instigate the operation into discovering the executor of this attack upon this town, therefore I expected _slightly_ more than what you have given me: the name of the gas used, as well as the way it was distributed around the school halls. We can know everything _about_ the crime, yet that doesn't lead us to who committed it, does it?"

She merely shakes her head mutely, as if she can't say a word, so I continue.

"I am informing you of this because I know that Amelie expects results in a shorter time than we possibly have," I continue, hardening my tone as I mention Amelie's name. "This is unfortunate, yet I expect you to be working as hard as possible to gain any leads whatsoever in regards to who caused such a _devastating_ loss of life."

As I finish, I stand slowly and move around the desk, turning to look through the heavily tinted window in the very far corner, the one that affords me the one part of humanity I miss. The ability to walk through the daylight, to admire the sun from a closer distance without it burning so horrendously, is perhaps the one thing I miss…everything else, I feel is wasted missing, for I chose to become a vampire to further my control. There cannot be regret for the best decision I, as a human, ever made.

I turn back to her and hear her shiver, a delicate sound that captures the attention of vampire within me and has the sweet smell of her blood tearing my body into pieces with desire for her, to taste her scent on my lips. Yet I force this side of me down as I move closer to her, feel the tension within the air as words are uttered from my mouth without me consciously realising it – I'm informing her to stand, for her to turn and face me.

And she does so with a fearful expression upon her face, her thoughts plain for me to see; she's afraid I'm going to bite her, to take her blood and, most likely, her life – discard her to the floor for her failure to provide me with the causer of the gas attack…which would be herself, yet she needn't know that.

The innocence in her eyes merely spurs me on, has me desiring her all the more, because I _know_, underneath, she feels something other than hatred for me – she feels as I do: confused, unable to comprehend what is going on, afraid…dangerous. The side beneath knows no bounds so long as I do not set them when she is controlled by me. When there is a connection between the pair of us, I merely free a part of her soul that has been begging for air, to allow her to be, for want of a better word, _evil_ towards those she apparently loves, all for a selfish gain.

Without realising it, she is in my grasp, her warmth seeping into my hands as I clutch her shoulders to bring her closer to me, regardless of her struggling. She tries to turn away as I press my lips to hers, the momentous release of…_energy_ stronger than it has been before, reflecting the growing bond between us. There is no romance here: there is a bond between the master and the one controlled, one that shall naturally grow stronger as it is repeated and manipulated to complete the best result.

She fights to get free, screaming words pointlessly against my lips as her conscious side remains in control…however, mere seconds later, it slips. She slips from the golden angel everyone presumes this girl must be, due to her age and apparent innocence, and out comes the dark side of the ordinary girl before me. There is nothing special or unique about her; she is merely Claire Danvers, the girl who was closest to the place I needed to gain a Protectee from.

At least, this is what I tell myself.

Her arms twist around my neck in the strangest of ways that has me almost fighting _myself_ to ensure that I do not forget where I am, that I don't become fixated upon the feeling of her warm skin upon my own because if I do, this is in jeopardy. _Everything_ I have worked for will be jeopardised – and for what? The ability to say that I destroyed her life, _killed_ her, merely because I lost control…because of apparent 'love'.

I close my eyes as I try to make this as clinical as possible, kissing her more and more to try and _prove _to myself that I am under control, that I can do as _I_ desire because I have no need for Claire in that sense. She is mine as a possession, something I am utilising…but I cannot lie and say that it isn't enjoyable. The feeling of her skin upon mine, of her warmth spreading through me, of her scent washing over my face – it intrigues me to the point where I can understand why Amelie took a human lover. There is nothing more _enchanting_ than feeling the heartbeat of another below your hand, yet also the pleasure of the synchronised movement of your lips, in ways barely comprehendible to me.

I tear my mouth from hers as I realise, once again, she requires to breathe, my hand reaching down for her arm to lift it to my mouth. To control her entirely, I _must_ have her blood; she must run through my veins before I can wholly say I have a complete control over her…as before, I must bite her.

She doesn't seem to care as she stands there, waiting for me, the enchantment spurred into action by my kissing of her causing her eyes to appear dreamy, her arm willing to move to my mouth without qualm. And neither is there fuss as I bite into her luscious, creamy skin at her elbow crease, the flowing of the scarlet liquid into my mouth comparable to heaven; I truly cannot think of another's blood that I have tasted that could be deemed better than this, this…_liqueur_. It intoxicates me, leaves me unable to think clearly because of a lust stronger than plans and the thirst for power.

Pausing merely to seal the wound over with a touch of my saliva, I rip my fangs from her arm, blood covering my mouth even as I retract those extra 'teeth' of mine, my lips pressing back against hers within a millisecond. The taste of her blood, of how I imagine sunshine and lavender would taste, passes back to her and an idle thought is how she would, if she could think without this haze, feel about her own blood being within her mouth once again.

Her hands twist into my hair as this is purely for pleasure on my behalf, not a need to control her – she is entirely mine, no shadow of a doubt, and yet I cannot bring myself to stop. I _desire_ her more than anything; this small, human girl has reduced me to almost nothing, a mere mimic of what I was previously.

This cannot be. This _cannot_ be allowed, not when we are so perilously close to something which could turn the odds in my favour faster than anything else we could possibly do.

So, as per usual, I find the strength within me to pull away, to force her almost across the room from me in my attempts to ensure that I do not become allured by her once again. There is a charm about this girl no other has ever possessed – perhaps it is due to my control of her, my ability to feel how _she_ feels as she is close to me – and I cannot allow it presently.

Holding my breath as so not to allow her scent to enter my nostrils, I stride back towards her, allowing the breath out as I speak, telling her the mission she must complete. This _must_ be done; there is nothing of more importance that has been completed during the past few weeks. This shall destroy ties within Morganville forever, a new relationship that has been forged merely within a short period of time, ripped from this earth and remaining only in memories.

"Your mission is to remove someone from this Earth. They must not be able to communicate with _anyone_ once this is over with and most certainly cannot be revived in hospital, as your friend has the potential to be," I stress this as much as possible, almost despairing as she appears distant – until I remember that this is as she always is when I control her and that she cannot do anything about it.

Slowly, she nods, yet I am not finished.

"There can be no suspicion that it is _you_ who has carried this out. Find another in this town to blame it upon – due to his nature and recent choices, there cannot be a way for them not to have enemies."

She nods again, yet she has no idea who her target is, does she?

"Your target is…Mr. Glass."

* * *

_Whoa._

_So, yeah, meant to be a short chapter – over 4000 words._

_Don't favourite, alert or read without reviewing, please._

_Vicky xx_


	25. Chapter 25

_Chapter 25:_

_I don't own anything_

_I can't actually believe I'm writing this…_

_For Alice [watching stiricide]_

* * *

_Oliver's POV:_

She nods slowly, her eyes clear from emotion and anything that could distract her from her mission. There's nothing in them other than the colour of her irises and her pupils, contracted with the relative light in the room. My hands grip onto her arms, feeling her heartbeat pumping blood through her circulatory system; however, now is no time to be thirsty. This is the biggest thing she has had to do so far.

It will be the penultimate step in the entire sequence of events which have been planned for months.

"Which Glass?" she asks slowly, no emotion in her voice, and I hesitate for a second; I have forgotten that there are _two_ Glass vampires in town. She could have gone and killed the wrong one if she didn't ask, something which wouldn't have been an issue, but for the fact, that I have no other scapegoat on which to pin his death _on_.

At least she's perceptive.

"Samuel Glass." His name means nothing to me; he is merely a man who has fallen in love with the wrong woman and defended her so many times that it is obvious to me that they are in the deepest love that any couple can be in. Amelie and Sam, Sam and Amelie; their names are interchangeable and to hurt one, you need only hurt the other. Therefore, ridding the world of Sam will rid the world of Amelie's heart, leaving her colder, more vulnerable…_fragile_.

And that is when Claire will strike. She will rid the world of Amelie as well, when she is weak and defenceless, with no control because everything she does is for Sam. Everything she does, it is obvious that she merely wants Sam at the end of it –and this is, ultimately, her downfall. Of course it is _his_ downfall also, for he is the first to die, yet that is the price to pay for falling irrevocably in love with the Founder of Morganville, someone who hides all emotions better than I kill.

Again, Claire nods, her eyes focusing slightly, yet on the thoughts slipping into her head. There is no recognition that this is wrong, that she shouldn't be killing the Grandfather of her best friend – her _only_ friend, who is walking and talking in Morganville, at least. She merely wants to please me, to ensure that she follows my orders…or, at least this is how I assume she thinks, for I have never been mind controlled, so I cannot particularly say anything about it.

"Good," I say softly, taking a step away from the girl and releasing her. No matter _what_ I want, she has no further purpose here, not today, at least. She has a mission to complete, something which will be harder to complete than the others for it is a vampire she is to kill. And also, she cannot be caught when she does it; how she plans to ensure that she is not linked to the murder will be difficult, yet that is for her to work out. If I loose her here, it is a travesty, yet I cannot say that I would not be able to destroy Amelie myself. Somehow. It is always possible; yet I would much rather have Claire as part of the plan, for it would make everything so much easier.

And I've spent weeks training her now, so it would be a shame for it to all go to waste.

"You have been here to be told that you must work harder in finding the perpetrator of the school attack," I remind her urgently. "You will not remember anything else, other than the mission you have been given, something you cannot say to any other person. The mission must be completed in the next three nights. By Sunday, Samuel Glass _must_ be dead."

She nods again, slowly and coolly, no emotion in the movement whatsoever. I feel she is ready to be released from my control, for she has all the knowledge she needs to be able to carry out this as successfully as she can. It's a worry, because perhaps she won't be stealthy enough, yet I can only hope that Sam's trust in this girl will win over his suspicion.

Perhaps she may even utilise the time slot I have put in place for her to kill him, what with him driving her to and from the lesson he teaches at night…at the university…where the students are not studying.

My fingers snap and her eyes become more like their normal selves, full of wit and brains and everything that makes this girl just who she is. There's confusion as to why she's leaning against the wall, yet I merely roll my eyes and try and act more and more like the grumpy vampire coffee shop owner I pretend to be.

She just doesn't know how much she has touched on my heart.

"W-was there anything else?" she asks me quietly, not making eye contact as she stands there. She's scared; I can feel the fear radiating off her in huge waves, something which would have once made me thirstier and want to attack her. Now, it merely leaves me trying to keep myself away from her, because I don't want to hurt her, to take her blood outside of reasons such as necessity or lust or anything that could be a description of the complex situation that surrounds us.

"No, that's all," I roll my eyes, moving to sit down in the chair behind my desk. "You may leave, Claire. I have nothing further to say to you, other than to remind you that Amelie expects results. And if Amelie doesn't _get_ those results, it is not just you who will suffer."

She gulps as she leaves the office and mutters something as she leaves the office; it's not words that can be distinguished, even to a vampire – mumbling distorts messages and even someone as old as I cannot always make out every single word in such a garbled sentence. She doesn't realise what she's doing; she is going to, for a few hours, go about her normal, daily business. She'll think that she has to do something important, yet not entirely remember what it is. Then…then it'll strike. Sometime this evening, she will begin preparations for ending the life of Samuel Glass – if this existence as a vampire can be called a life, that is. She will become as she did when she was plotting for the events in the school, yet I worry that this will not be achievable without something more than before – a greater connection between us. I will analyse her tonight, yet it could be that something I had planned to save until she was at the final stage in the plan may have to be brought forwards, merely for the reassurance that she _will_ do this.

There's a slam as the door is shut harshly, yet I do not jump: my attention is focused on thinking of the plans I have for the coming days and just what she will be like.

By next Sunday, I am confident everything shall be over.

By next Sunday, I will be ruler.

* * *

_Claire's POV:_

I head out of the café and want to rave and scream and shout because he expects me to be able to find some way to find out who caused the gas attack at the schools! Surely it would make more sense for the trained professionals to come in – even, possibly, ones from outside of Morganville – and find out just who killed so many children! But no: apparently, Amelie doesn't want any person coming in from outside of Morganville, for fear that they will find out about the vampires, yet the staff in the police department are already stretched to the max finding out who planted the bomb.

Morganville is a dangerous place right now, especially since it seems someone is targeting the humans.

"Hello?" I call out as soon as I walk into the house, having almost ran home. I have to start planning something that almost wants to destroy me, yet I'm not going to tell anyone. It doesn't matter. It's all business. Nobody needs to know; it's not even the focus of my thoughts right now. "Michael, are you in?"

There's no reply and, for one horrendous moment, I'm fearful that he's gone, that he…that he wasn't ready to come home and that he's dying or something that can only happen to vampires is happening.

Then I walk into the living room and realise, through all the panicking, that I missed the sound of his guitar. I would have thought that it would stand out, hearing it again after so long, yet evidently not; I must have subconsciously reverted back to a state of normal near instantly. But I seem to be missing out on a lot recently; time seems to skip by and I get the feeling that I'm missing entire hours from my life – I don't remember what I do in them. It's even more worrying given what's happening in the town at the minute…but, no, I can't be anything to do with it, can I? I could never hurt my best friend the way she has been hurt…it wouldn't be possible. I just don't see how I could; after all, Jason did that. He tried to kill Eve, not me.

"…_Claire_!" Michael is standing in front of me and I realise that, for an undeterminable amount of time, I've just been standing here, unresponsive; he's managed to realise I'm here, set down his guitar and have said my name enough times for him to have gotten concerned. "Are you ok?" he asks me gently now I'm looking at him.

"Yeah…I…I just blanked out," I shut my eyes and try to remember what I've done in the past few minutes. Thinking, I suppose, and wondering where my life has gone in the past few weeks…actions which seem to have taken up more time in which I can't rely on what time has passed.

He smiles slightly and releases me, moving back around to his sofa to cradle his guitar. "I guessed that," he retorts in his usual manner, beginning to strum as he sits down again. "Wanna just sit down for a bit?" he motions to the seat in front of him and I'm _so_ tempted to just go sit and just relax for the afternoon, not worry about anything that's going on in Morganville. To be able to forget about the worries in the town would be a godsend, yet it is impossible.

So, regretfully, I shake my head and any traces of a smile slides off my face. "I can't, Michael, I have to do more research into whoever killed all those kids," I reply slowly. "Amelie wants it and I have a feeling that when Amelie doesn't get something, she gets mad."

The smile slides off his face and he sighs slightly, though there's a sort of understanding in his expression. "I get it, Claire. It's dangerous to oppose authority in this town. Everyone knows that. Just be careful, ok? If they've not been found yet, I sincerely doubt they want to be found."

There's nothing to say in response to this. Anything possible to be said would just be either supporting or contradicting his statements – which are true – and would serve no purpose other than to possibly ignite an argument I don't want.

So, without another word, I head upstairs, wondering just _how_ we all got to this stage, where we're all separate. The four of us haven't been together long, yet Eve is already in the hospital, Shane is on the run and whilst Michael and I are _physically_ together, he's dealing with scars from his near death experience and I don't even know _what_ is up with me. Probably something to do with the fact that I've been ordered to find out which sadistic prat killed so many children after a little girl died in my arms.

And, for the next three hours, I try and work out who did it. I try and follow every lead that there is to come to a conclusion as to which person in Morganville – or people – have the greatest motive for committing such a heinous crime.

I come up empty.

* * *

_Claire's POV (3rd person):_

At almost nine pm, there's almost a change in Claire. It's not something you would notice in a physical manner, nor something that changes her actions, yet the thoughts inside her head…_adjust_. No longer is the focus of her thoughts and attention solely on finding the gasser; no, now, she's more preoccupied with just _how_ to kill Sam Glass without being discovered. It's something that troubles a large part of her because that's the part that, in a way, _loves_ Sam; when nobody else has been there for her, he has.

And yet this larger, powerful part is obscured by the fact that _Oliver_ has commanded her to do this…and he's more powerful than any resistance in her. There may be moments when she just can't focus because she's striving with all her heart to avoid this action she has to take, yet she's always going to end up focusing back on the planning because, well, _Oliver_ told her to do it.

The smaller part of her is dominant, as though it has leeched itself into her skin and whenever she even _attempts _to do anything opposing it, it's like it launches into action to prevent her: she's got no mind of her own, not _really_, especially since he's manipulating his control of her.

The cover of working out who caused the gas attack is good enough for Michael, so he doesn't disturb Claire as she works on plans to destroy his grandfather; it's a dangerous route that she must take, for destroying someone as well liked as Sam Glass – amongst humans and vampires alike – will not only be fraught with difficulty, finding someone to blame will be even harder.

It's then when she realises that it must be framed as an accident; it can't seem as if he's been _murdered_, for then she would never get away with her scent being all over him. All she can do is orchestrate a situation which _seems_ like an accident, yet has actually been prepared for days prior to it.

The mental block within her mind as to _how_ she can do this seems to be in accordance to her feelings that she doesn't want to kill Sam, someone who is almost like family to her now; he's helped her through times that she can't describe and even though Claire is controlled by the part of her which was ordered by Oliver to commit this attack, there's more of her putting up a fight to prevent it.

The part of her that can think at least semi-logically, even for a short period of time, realises that to do this would be akin to destroying everything good in the world: this part of Claire may not be able to do anything, for it is out of control of her, but it's the moral part of her that tries to make her stop, to do _anything_ it can to prevent this heinous crime. Unfortunately, this moral high-ground isn't aware of anything else that Claire has done, so it's under the illusion that she's thus far moral…

Still, Claire continues to write down idea after idea as to just how she can destroy Sam Glass; it's her mission, and she's not going to drop out on it, is she? However, each idea that follows the last is more ludicrous, farfetched and entirely impossible to orchestrate; all forty seven minutes has to show is the decision that it _must_ be an accident, nothing further.

Her self control is slipping – with each newly idiotic idea comes another surge of 'resistance' from the other part of her, the part that Oliver failed to subdue, because all his effort seemed focused on making Claire do this monstrous crime. He forgot about making her entirely his…or maybe he didn't have enough power to.

Either way, she doesn't know – or care.

_~x~_

Midnight rolls around and she's nowhere closer to getting even a timeframe for when she could kill Sam, as her heart isn't in it, not really. Oliver's control, the thing that was once completely controlling of her, is weakening as the missions he gives her grow greater, so what was once enough no longer is.

She can resist.

* * *

_Oliver's POV:_

She's not fully focused; I can feel it inside of me, in the part which I'm aware of all her movements. Due to the resenting, resisting part of her, she's not fully focused and she's got no idea whatsoever as to what she can do. The furthest place she's advanced to is that she needs to make it seem like an accident, which isn't enough in the past few hours since she started planning this.

I need to go there, find a way to increase my control over her; I had to do that before, when she was setting up the gas attacks, and evidently it will require more than just my forcing my control on her – there needs to be a bond between us that's internal as well. To be controlled enough by me to carry this out without raising suspicion or getting herself captured, Claire _must_ be more under my thumb, have no dissenting parts to her merely because they're what will _cause_ her to be caught.

My thoughts are jumbled, an array of continuous dilemma as to just what I can do to ensure she remains solely mine throughout the next three days. It's almost an obsidian colour in my mind, one of darkness…and yet a shining clarity beneath the surface, for I know what I can do. It is something I deigned to leave as merely a last resort, for it is dangerous and could, if done wrong, result in something irreversibly appalling for my using of Claire.

After ensuring the door is securely locked so that no prying eyes can enter, as well as turning the phones onto a silent mode so if they ring they shall not disturb the people in the area – I am nothing but considerate for these peasants, as they would have been deemed in _my_ day – I close my eyes and summon this portal within the corner of the room. Whilst still sceptical about its reliability and security, there is no other way to enter the Glass House, even with the owner being a vampire, due to reasons which continue to be unknown. It is not relevant, however, to focusing on being as strong as possible, merely to confirm one hundred percent that she _will_ do as required, that there is no dissenting part of her that could ruin the plans to destroy Amelie once and for all.

And so, opening the cracked wooden door, I walk through into the Glass House so anticlimactically, it's almost as though I have been invited to join the pair of them here. However, I haven't, and my eyes feel the need to roam around the room to ensure that there are no predators in here and nobody is here to contemplate attacking _me, _even though I can sense that there is nobody here in the room but Claire.

She's tapping her pencil on her desk, balls of scrunched up paper littering the floor, and I can see that the title on all of them is the same: mission. Evidently, it's obvious what she's trying to work on…and it's even clearer that there are issues with what she's to do; Claire doesn't have any ideas on how to kill Sam Glass. Because there is a part of her that can object to something as 'immoral' as killing the nicest vampire in town, something which doesn't particularly make sense to me, platonic emotions between a human and a vampire she barely knows.

Not making a sound, I move quickly behind her chair, not entirely confirmed as to how she will react. It's impossible to tell as to whether or not the control I have her under will cause her to not react to my presence, or if her return to 'normal' will confuse her as to why I'm here, in her bedroom.

There's no time to waste; contemplating how she is going to react isn't particularly beneficial to the already tight time constraints upon us in this current situation – the greater period of time in which she's not solely under my control means that there is less time for her to fully focus on getting this plan completed, and the action undertook, before Sunday night is over.

She doesn't realise that I'm here, standing behind her; she's engrossed in tapping her pencil in a slow, rhythmic pattern that irritates me after a few more seconds. There's no way that I can stand this much longer, so I reach out and grasp her by the shoulders with one hand, the other reaching her mouth before—

The scream she releases is muffled by my covering of her mouth, ensuring that she's not able to be heard by the young vampire downstairs. The only thing I can hope is that she's screaming as a natural, primitive response, one that is buried deep within her and rises when there is the possibility of danger, of someone attacking her. There's more than just the concern for my control over her, however; there's something inside of me that is hurt that she's fearful of me, even though she ought to be. That part of me that doesn't know how to control itself when she's around becomes stronger and there's the worry within me that I will relinquish all control when she's close to me. And all that would result in would be death for Claire, something which would benefit nobody in this damned town, except perhaps Amelie.

Her eyes shoot hurriedly to the mirror in front of her to lock in on my face, panic evident in their hasty movements, as well as the emotions held within the brown circles. Then she seems to recognise me, a realisation seeming slower than I would have expected since she _is_ supposed to be controlled by myself at this current moment in time, her features modifying into more of a blank expression, though fear continues to linger in the very backs of her eyes.

"Claire." I simply state her name, not inflicting any emotion into my voice whatsoever as I continue to keep eye contact with her.

She doesn't speak, merely nods an infinitesimally small amount, as though waiting for me to add something to my dialogue further than merely her name.

"Turn around," I whisper slowly, relinquishing my hold on her mouth and shoulder. I trust her not to scream, given there's the almost zombie-like edge to her, one that gives me confidence that she is almost completely controlled by myself. She does as I ask, turning to face me with those same, expressionless eyes gazing up at me.

Slowly, I force myself to take a breath of her scent and force myself not to react to it, instead reaching down and taking one of her wrists and lifting it upwards, at the same time as lifting my other wrist to my own mouth. Wincing slightly, I bite into my wrist, allowing just a steady trickle of blood to stream out from it, before passing this hand into Claire's wrist and lifting it to her mouth.

It is a strange feeling, for a human to be drinking my blood, for it is normally the other way round, yet there is a clear purpose for this: if my blood is in her system, controlling her will be absolute. There shall be no dissenting part of her, mainly because I will have complete control; she will merely be a puppet acting out her master's orders. However, though my reasons are absolutely clear, it continues to be a strange feeling, my own blood being removed from my body; normally, the stench of blood in the air suggests that my own thirst is being sated, yet, in this instance, it merely makes me thirstier, as the loss of the blood from my own system begins to take its toll on me.

Finally, I realise that any further quantities of blood into Claire's system shall be dangerous; the process of becoming a vampire is coveted information by myself, though I am extremely certain I know the process, and I am confident it involves the sharing of blood between a vampire and a human. With any more blood of mine in her body, I fear that it would be irreversible…she wouldn't become a _normal_ vampire, oh no, she would be a combination between the two races for she was not drained before she consumed my blood – and I have no time for a hybrid creature, or whatever would be the product of such experimenting. Though I'm not entirely positive if Myrnin continues to reside in this town – or if, indeed, he deigned to come at all – I would leave this experimental work to him.

As she looks at me now, my hand moving from her grasp at lightning quick speeds to allow the wound to heal, I see _nothing_ in her eyes; there is nothing there but an emotionless void of brown, as she waits for me to do something. There is no need to draw her back under my control for she is already here; she has her instructions and shall not do anything but these instructions until I order her otherwise.

"You know your mission." Is all I say slowly, my eyes boring into her's. "Don't forget it. Don't get distracted. And, for the love of God, don't tell the Glass boy."

She doesn't react, even to confirm she knows this, and I snap my fingers, as though it will bring her out of this slightly. It does, makes her seem _slightly_ more normal than before, though there are still residues of the part of her that does nothing other than follow my commands.

There's too much temptation if I remain here much longer; her blood tempts me more than most, and the way I gave her my blood has left me with a deficiency.

So, without another word, I leave the room through the portal, travelling through space to return to my office. As the door slams shut, I catch a glimpse of Claire sitting down to feverishly start writing something down on the paper in front of her, a plan evidently forming in her mind.

* * *

_Claire's POV: (3rd person once again)_

_The next day_

"Claire, you look knackered," Michael tells her straight, pouring her a coffee as soon as she walks into the kitchen. "Did you not sleep or something?" he continues, as though he doesn't recognise her vacant expression. Inside her head, she's barely able to hear him, thoughts whizzing around her head as she tries to get the intricate details as to just how her plan will play out. She hasn't slept a wink during the night, instead utilising the time to get a logistical plan scraped together that can have the desired result within a much too short time period.

"What?" she doesn't process what he's said at first, taking a few moments to jolt back into the room with Michael. "Oh…uh…yeah, I guess I didn't sleep very much. I don't really remember. It was just…tossing and turning, but sort of half awake and half asleep."

He doesn't look convinced for a moment, before then walking over to Claire and giving her a hug, even with the mug in her hand. "Go back to bed," he orders her, more authoritative than Claire ever remembers him speaking to her, yet she doesn't dwell on it.

"What are you doing today?" she asks him, wondering if he's going to go out and leave her in peace and quiet to carry on planning the finale of this mission, or if he's going to hinder her to the point where she can't do anything.

"Going to work…in about three minutes," he turns to look at the clock and narrows his eyes before then turning back to look at Claire. "You go back to bed, ok? It's not good to be tired in this town, not when you need to be on your toes all the time."

She nods slowly, yet isn't particularly bothered, and takes another sip of coffee, trying to clear the fog of lethargy from her mind. Michael doesn't seem to notice that there's anything different about her, even though she would normally be chatting away like a chimpanzee; a random thought that passes through her mind theorises that he presumes she's still shocked by everything that's happening.

"Claire?" he repeats her name as he stands by the door, and Claire's left wondering just when he moved over there. "Don't kill yourself over what Amelie wants you to do. It's not worth it; if there's nothing left to find, you can't do anything further. Just relax. And sleep, ok?"

"I will," she promises, though, as she did when she was a child, she crosses her fingers behind her back. The small motion of resistance reminds her of childhood, when everything was so simple, until the band of restriction around her mind, the one controlled by Oliver, and Oliver only, retracts and leaves her focusing on the mission at hand.

"Good," he smiles, but she doesn't feel any of the usual pull towards his attractiveness; she's disengaged once again and barely hears him. "See you later, Claire."

She doesn't respond.

_~x~_

The day passes in a blur of running around the house to try and source things she _knows_ are here, because she's seen them since she's been here, and trying to confirm parts of the plan that can definitely happen. Now it's just the sorting of the timetables and ensuring that there's nobody around where she wants to kill Sam, because it wouldn't be as easy as murdering someone if there were witnesses, right?

Lethargy comes in great, sweeping waves, yet she manages to ensure that she stays awake and fights through it, giving every ounce of focus to the tasks she's doing, her eyes sometimes being forced open. She goes down for a coffee every hour or so, taking it black to give her even more chance of staying awake, and she's confident that she's going to finish before her lesson on Sunday and be able to take out Sam without an ounce of suspicion landing on her.

When Michael returns later this evening, she pretends she's just woken up, though she doesn't think he's convinced; the circles around her eyes are deep, haunting, illuminated by the extreme pallor of her face. If anyone knew that she had been given Oliver's blood, they'd link it to this, but they don't because even _she_ barely remembers seeing Oliver last night, let alone his blood trickling down her throat.

"Food, Claire?" Michael asks her as she runs back into the kitchen, looking for a bottle of oil, of all things. She pauses for a moment to see a plate of chicken and chips waiting for her on the side, Michael's face almost expectant, as though he wants her company.

"Sure," she manages to smile and slips down into the chair opposite him, somehow managing to suppress a yawn so he can't accuse her of not sleeping. "Hey, did you use all the oil?" she asks him, frowning as she spots an empty bottle of it in the bin to the side of them.

"Yeah. I came across the old _chip pan_ from God knows when, so I decided to use it," he smiles, as though it's only his genius that caused him to spy the pan Claire had dug out hours before. "Did you need it for something, or…?"

She manages to concentrate for longer, her brain whirring to try and find a solution to her desiring oil. "No, I…I was going to go shopping tomorrow, so I was just going to add it to the list," she makes up off the top of her head, deciding this is a foolproof enough plan.

"Oh, in that case, there's these things as well that we need," Michael smiles and it's all Claire can manage to do to ensure that she's continuing to concentrate…something she doesn't succeed with.

**.**

As she falls into a deep sleep, her brain becomes confused, flying between what she's done and what she's going to do; the hasty, crudely drawn diagrams of the sequence of events that shall unfold in the course of the next couple of days seem to come to life before her eyes, 2D images taking on substance to torment her for what her plans are.

She tosses and turns, never waking from the dream that frightens her more with every second longer that it continues on. There's no respite from it, no ceasing of the torturous images running through her mind, and it's almost enough to make her fight back from Oliver's control so absolutely that she almost – _almost_ – is close to overcoming it. Perhaps if she had another night to sleep through before she has to kill Sam, it would succeed, the absolute horror of doing this stronger than even Oliver's blood, when her subconscious takes over.

Then her eyes snap open.

Oliver's control is back.

She's doing this; she's killing Sam and there's nothing she can do to stop it.

Not even if she wants to.

_~x~_

"Claire, are you _absolutely sure_ you're going to be fine if I go here?" Michael confirms for the three hundredth time with the girl who could barely concentrate enough to protest the first time he asked her, let alone now.

"I'm sure. You can go away with your little buddies across town for _one_ night; it's not like I'm going to blow the place up, since you've already cooked me dinner." She raises an eyebrow in protest and waits for him to move back closer to the door, wondering if this time will be the final protest on his behalf. "Seriously, Michael, _go_. Sam already said he'd pick me up to take me to class," she reminds him, as he opens his mouth to inform her that he has to drive her to lessons this evening.

"You've got my mobile number on speed dial and every door is locked, right?" he confirms with her again, and she nods, stretching her arms out. "Right. I'll ring you later, ok? And _answer_ the phone, Claire, or I'll have to come home and make sure you're ok, agreed?"

She nods without speaking, simply looks at him with a smile on her lips. Even as he walks over across towards the door, bag in hand, she doesn't say anything to him, and turns away before he's even out the door.

"Bye!" Michael calls before he shuts the door, yet, once again, she doesn't respond. All she does is count down the seconds in her head until he's gone: _three, two, one…he's gone_.

As soon as the door is shut, Claire jumps into action. Everything that she's been storing in her room for the last couple of days, lined up by her door for easy access this morning, is suddenly moved into the places where they're required to be, ranging from the secret room to the kitchen. She barely thinks as she ties knots, places seemingly random pieces together on the gas rings on the cooker, or even as she grasps the Taser in her hand as she runs up the stairs to the secret room.

Then she sits down, everything in place for when Sam comes at eleven pm.

And she waits.

_~x~_

She sits on the Glass House sofa, tapping her fingers on the soft sofa cushion, waiting for the clock to tick around to the time when Sam said he'd be coming; when he called yesterday to ask her if she would like a lift to class, she asked him if he'd mind coming round beforehand – "to discuss Michael," she said as her cover story – and he agreed willingly, so now all she has to do is wait.

She waits.

And she waits.

And then she waits some more.

By the time the doorbell rings, she's almost forgotten _why_ she's waiting, barely thinking as her fingers drum the seat; she's got no self control, nothing to think of other than the mission for there _is_ nothing other than this in her mind at the minute.

"Hi, Claire," Sam says as she lets him in without a word, managing to muster up a smile. His hair is ruffled and windswept, strands of copper coloured proteins pointing in all directions as he walks in. "Are you ok? Where's Michael?"

She turns back around to face him as she locks the door, leaving it on the latch for later, so it's easier to leave. "I'm fine," she replies, trying to get as much emotion into her voice as she can. "Michael…he's at the shop. I think he's coming back soon; is it ok if we go up to the secret room to talk?" she finds her way to get him up there, as, if she doesn't, things could go heads up.

"Sure. I don't really want him coming back and hearing us discussing him, anyway." Sam's easy to go up to the room at the top of the stairs, leading the way with an ease that startles Claire, until she recalls that he used to live here.

Live and die here.

They walk into the secret room and she's careful to sit in the exact place she needs to be, for the Taser to be in easy reach. She's aware that, once he's stunned, she'll have maybe four or five minutes to get out and set up the rest of the plan to finish him off.

Sitting here, part of her begins to shake, as though the hold Oliver has over her is disintegrating; it's not – of course, his blood overrides the part of her that wants to scream and shout and do _anything_ other than kill sweet, innocent Sam Glass – but there's a feeling that doing this is not only wrong, it's _morally_ destructive. There's nothing worse than killing someone you know you as well as this, yet it's her entire mission, so why would she dispute it?

"What do you want to discuss about Michael?" Sam doesn't have a clue that there's anything wrong, that there _should_ be anything that he needs to be worried about – why should he be suspicious of little Claire?

"He…he doesn't seem right," she replies slowly, her hand reaching behind the cushion surreptitiously to just be touching the Taser. "I don't know…he just doesn't seem like he was before," she stalls for time, needing him to look away so she can move more and grasp the weapon within her hand.

"He's just adjusting to being back in the real world, Claire," Sam says, standing up and walking away to look at the place where, Claire presumes, the window was once positioned. There's a section of wood a shade lighter than the rest, suggesting it has been replaced, and as Sam looks at this, she takes advantage.

There are no emotions involved as she rapidly thinks through everything that's going to happen in the next few minutes. Things are going to change forever, and yet she doesn't care; she is merely cool-headed, clinically minded as she considers how easy this will be.

"Sam?" she says his name, the Taser clenched tightly in her hand, and she's prepared.

"Yes?" he turns around, slightly confused – this shows on his face, the slight narrowing of his sapphire blue eyes as he tries to understand what she could want.

That is, however, until the Taser comes out. Even he, as a vampire, has no time to react, his eyes just following as she pulls her arm out from behind the cushion, her finger poised on the button.

"Sorry." There's nothing emotional in her tone as she says this one word, five letters long, and she doesn't sound as if she means it: even as she presses the button, sending an electric shock out from the tiny black box, she doesn't react; even as he writhes and thrashes, ultimately falling to the floor, she doesn't react; even as he lets out a grunt, his eyes rolling backwards into his head, his body immobile, she doesn't react.

Not until there's not a movement from his body does she move; and then, it's in the opposite direction from Sam, taking the Taser in her hand with her as she dashes across to the sofa to release the catch so she can escape and continue with her plan.

This is too easy; she can't just leave him here, Tasered, and expect him to die; there has to be something so big, so dangerous, so apparently unpredictable, that she's never even contemplated as being able to do something as big as this. So she runs down the stairs, eyes roaming around as though there's someone here that she needs to watch out for, and darts into the kitchen, on a countdown to complete the mission in a way that will never be forgotten. An indelible mark will be left on Morganville to mark where Sam fell, and she had better ensure that she gets out before she joins him.

In the kitchen, the set up around the chip pan she assured Michael would be safe is already nearly complete; there's perhaps thirty seconds before the oil in the pan that appears to be nearing the red hot stage where it's almost ready to boil over…and there are _plenty_ of flammable items around it.

"Here goes," she mutters to herself, dropping the Taser in a pile of wax and backing away towards the door.

It doesn't take long to go up.

There's a tremendous shaking, the entire cooker rattling as the pan begins to almost convulse, if it were human…there's thick clouds of smoke rising from the lid that seems almost as if it's going to fly off before…

**BANG**

It's louder than anything bar the bomb at the City Hall, a enormous torrent of oil rising from the pan, flooding the areas near to the cooker. The actual cooker ring is doused with hot, sizzling oil that, when it comes into contact, bursts into flames. They spread quickly, consuming all in their path, leaving intricate, dancing patterns of yellow and orange, red and flashes of white, in their path through the kitchen. As they reach the curtains, on the side further from Claire, they don't bother to creep up; one second the flames are twisting their way around the work surfaces, igniting the coffee in the pot, and then they're springing up onto the curtain rail, winding themselves around as they advance forwards.

The smoke density begins to thicken as the flames begin to lick their way much too close to Claire for her liking; as soon as she can see that the Taser sits in molten ruins, sparking slightly as the final remains of electrical charge combine with the flames.

Then the fire turns more purple, as though there's a tad of electrical fire in there as well, the flames mixing with potassium and iodine and other substances that Claire found and placed in the path to fuel the fire.

So she runs.

**.**

Outside, the air is fresh and cool as she stands gasping; the smoke got too close to her for liking, and she regrets hanging around in there. Yet she can't focus on herself, or even the sounds of people in the neighbouring Founder's Square, because her eyes are focused on the house.

Almost all of the downstairs is ablaze now, those scorching yellow flames tearing through the living room and consuming all flammable items; she can see the circling of the flames around the sofa and knows that if the fire has reached there, it's already climbing up the stairs.

Then Sam appears.

Her heart drops and she's almost about to collapse as she sees the vampire who ought to have _perished_ in the fire struggle towards the exit, his hands clinging to the doorframe tightly. She can hear him coughing – she's never known vampires can cough – and his head emerges slowly, covered in black soot, his hair singed on the ends.

His eyes don't see her as he struggles forwards, trying desperately to beat the fire to the door and therefore the outside world. Claire's eyes follow him desperately, her brain wracking for the possibility of a weapon or _something_ she could use to finish him off before dragging him back inside. It's too late, however; he's out and breathing in the air that is now making her feel slightly light-headed, his arms shining red as though he's a vampiric lobster.

And he still doesn't see her.

Rage and fear begin to shoot through her that he's still here, that he hasn't _died_! It was supposed to be foolproof; she never considered that he would be able to escape the room or even then to navigate through those almost pretty flames, because he's supposed to be more flammable than anything else!

"You weren't supposed to come _out_!" she shrieks suddenly, unable to keep quiet any longer as she stands looking at him. They're fifteen metres apart and only _now_ does he notice her, his eyes rising up to look at her face as she looks around desperately for anything to be deemed a weapon. "It was supposed to be _easy_, fool proof! You're supposed to be _dead_!" she continues, flailing her arms in the air as he continues to stand by the porch, seeming as if he's unable to move.

"Claire," he says her name without emotion, none of the usual Sam in there; he's gone, replaced by someone betrayed and confused, angry and injured to near death. "Why do you want to kill me?" he almost sounds hurt as he looks at her, his eyes narrowed with the effort it takes to speak, all the sparkling nature of them gone. He sees the reflection of the fire in her eyes, the proximity the eager, consuming flames are to his back, and he worries that she's going to push him in.

There's nothing for her to use as a weapon; she's ripping herself apart inside, screaming internally because she can't do it; she's shown herself to be a traitor because Sam's going to tell someone that she tried to kill him, isn't he? She tried and she failed because she can't…

The fire bursts through the roof, sending sparks high into the air, and everything gets a stage realer for Claire; the destruction of the Glass House is near complete and yet Sam is not dead. He's alive – barely, but he is – and he's staggering as he tries to relinquish his hold on the house to prevent his burning to a crisp.

"Claire," he says her name, trying to break through the barrier of shining resentment and anger evident in her eyes, trying to make _Claire_ see him. "Claire…I…"

But he doesn't finish the sentence.

A burning ember on the roof ignites the brickwork beneath the roof tiles, causing one of the tiles to fragment into three pieces, all three razor sharp.

One falls.

It comes at an angle, a piece of terracotta pot tile, relatively thick and shaped like an isosceles triangle: lethal.

And it falls towards Sam.

All he can do is look up; as before, with the Taser, he can only watch as his impending doom – this time, most likely assured permanent – arcs towards him, its tip positioned almost perfectly in line with his heart, as though Claire has planned this.

At the last, final second, he turns his head towards Claire, to see if she's somehow been able to orchestrate this, that her power within her is so absolute she's invincible; he recognises that this isn't the Claire he knows; she's polite and kind, conscientious and proud, someone he would want as his _daughter_…and she's destroyed him.

He can tell, however, that it's as much a shock to her as it is to him: her eyes are transfixed on the tile fragment falling through the air, a look of absolute shock on her face, her state allowing her subconscious through and therefore allowing horror to shine.

As the tile pierces Sam's chest, he grunts before falling sideways, away from the fire. The fire engines are on their way; Claire can hear their engines sounding relatively loud – nothing is far away from anything in this town. But Sam's body is safe from destruction, the dewy grass cooling his burns; yet it's not enough to stop his internal destruction from the makeshift stake.

As her "Oliver controlled" section recovers from the shock, Claire stands upright and merely looks at Sam, her eyes narrowing as she watches his pants become more and more shallow.

Finally, his head manages to turn and look at her, his eyes pleading. "Please," he begs her, his voice near gone. "I wouldn't tell anyone. I don't care. Whatever I've done, I'm sorry. Help me, Claire. Please."

She doesn't move.

Her eyes are unwavering as she watches him, his chest cavity pouring with the blood of others that's been adopted into his blood stream. As he lies on the ground, dying, the controlled part of her begins to shift; she's finished her mission, Sam isn't ever coming back, so why should Oliver's control need to stay? That was one of the conditions, after all.

And so the spell lifts: the girl is released from the confinements of her own body, yet with no knowledge of _anything_ that's happened. She's left standing before the body of a man who she thinks she may love as an uncle figure or something like that, someone whose eyes seem almost ready to close.

Claire's own chest is tight but she doesn't know why as she tries to draw in a deep breath, a piercing scream gushing out of her mouth anyway. "No!" she shrieks, beginning to stagger forwards towards Sam. "No! Sam! No! What happened? No! don't die, Sam, _please_ don't die!" she screams this as she tries to run closer to him, to help him.

His sapphire eyes are near closed, a sea of darkened blue near still in comparison to their liquidated nature before; the spark within him is receding, the thing that made _him_ so great, so loved, so utterly desired by all, nearly gone as he breathes his final breaths.

And before she can get there, her own head gives in: the smoke she inhaled is affecting her now, constricting her airways – and it's made worse by her running towards Sam.

He breathes in.

She collapses besides him, her arms and legs splayed out as her head comes to rest just metres from his own.

His eyes close.

They don't reopen.

_He's dead._

* * *

_This was the hardest chapter I have written, even harder than the school murder ones._

_AND I KILLED MY FAVOURITE CHARACTER._

_/wipes tears._

_Don't favourite/alert without reviewing, thanks._

_10 reviews to update – and I mean it, even though reviews have been down of late. It was hard to write, and I have other stories to update..._

_Vicky xx_


	26. Chapter 26

_I don't own anything_

_Chapter 26:_

* * *

_Claire's POV:_

Things begin to swirl in my mind, scenes mixing together that I _know_ are mutually exclusive of one another, and yet they do it anyway. Memories of my life before Morganville mix with my friends, making me think that I've always known them, and other characters as well: Sam, Oliver, Amelie….none of them are vampires in my dreams, but I've always been aware of their existence. In this world, nothing makes sense; nothing seems to follow any sort of order other than the fact that, ultimately, Sam dies. Someone stabs him right in the middle of New York City, for the strangest of reasons I don't ever find out, and even as I cry and shout, scream and yell, nobody comes to save him. Nobody calls an ambulance or helps as I try and staunch the blood…nobody is around besides for Amelie, a woman broken and lying on the floor, unable to watch as her love dies.

And then my eyes snap open.

I'm in one of the beds in Morganville General, not too far away from where Eve's room is, I think, and everything comes flooding back. The fire…someone left the chip pan on, I think, and…and Sam was inside the house as well. I ran. I ran out and left him, assuming he'd be fine – and he was. He was fine. Everything should have been _ok_.

He shouldn't be _dead_ now.

As the memory of the roof tile falling (aiming) itself right _at_ him lodges in my mind, I find myself screaming, crying desperately for me to go back in time and to run forwards to push him out of the way: I could have done it. I could have at least tried to save his life, tried to make sure that he, the most humane vampire, survived.

I didn't.

"Hey, Claire, ssshh, it's all ok." I hear Michael's voice from beside me, his hand reaching out to cover my own, and I manage to turn my head in his direction. Tears blur my vision but I can just about make out his face, pale and drawn as it is, and I know that I haven't been dreaming up Sam's death, that my dreams haven't influenced my perception of reality. Sam is dead. Sam is gone, and he's never coming back.

"When…when was it?" I stutter out through a dry throat, realising that I don't know what day it is. "When did Sam die?"

As I lift my other hand to wipe my eyes, Michael lets out a soft sigh, his eyes clouding over so I can't read them. I never realised that they both had blue eyes – though Michael's are lighter than Sam's _were_, less pronounced, less _good_. Yet another similarity between Michael and a dead man, because someone like Sam could never be only referred to as a vampire, could he?

"Two nights ago," Michael mutters, his voice quieter than before. "You've been asleep since then – they said it was smoke inhalation that kept you unconscious. He…he was dead before the fire engines got there. You were next to him; I think you were trying to help him, but you didn't reach him. Do you remember?"

I shudder for a moment, realising that I could have done something to help him, even to just be there as he died, and nod. "I…I got that. It's all a bit blurry, but I remember _trying_ to reach him…but then the fog overcame me before I could get to him. I tried, Michael, I really did; I'm so sorry. I…I…why did _Sam_ have to die?" I turn away from him, suddenly ashamed that I could have probably saved Sam's life, if I hadn't been overcome by the smoke. If I had been _strong_ enough…maybe we'd both be here right now.

He leans over my bed and grabs both my hands, forcing me to look back at him, no matter how much I don't want to. "I don't blame _you_, Claire; I could never…it wasn't your fault. Sam is dead because…because of me. _I_ left that chip pan on. If that wasn't on, then there would have _been _no fire. Sam would still be alive. It's all _my_ fault that my Grandad is dead."

"I believe that there is _no_ use in arguing who is to blame for Samuel's death; he is dead all the same, and none of our discussions are going to bring him back, are they?" Amelie's voice suddenly appears, and I turn around, startled, to see her standing at the end of my bed. Her face lacks its usual composure, true regret and remorse within her features, and I realise that she's broken: Sam's death has broken her, made sure that she can never go back to her previous strength, and there's no way that she can change anything. Recalling vampires from the dead is impossible, and she's lost her only love. Sam and Amelie are over, fractured to smithereens because of _us_, me really, and we can't do anything about it. "Are you quite yourself now, Claire?" as she speaks now, I can hear her trying desperately to return to her usual voice of power and resolution, yet she is failing.

"Um…I don't know," I answer honestly, wiping the fresh tears from my eyes with one of the hands Michael hastily released as soon as Amelie entered. Not because it would give the wrong impression, I don't think, but more likely because someone was entering – and it was Amelie. "I…I just want to get out of here. I can't stand to be in here anymore, not after all those dreams in that sleep…I can't stand just sitting here anymore." It may be mere minutes since I woke up, and I'm sure that the doctors will argue that I'm far too weak to leave, but I can't abide staying in bed another minute. As I mention them, the memories of the dreams, of Sam dying in New York, hit me and I find myself wincing, not only because of Sam, but because of how broken Amelie was. And how similar that image is to her now…I think that she's a lot worse than she appears at the minute.

She smiles ever so slightly, yet it isn't a comforting smile; no, it's more like an _expected_ smile, one that doesn't reach her eyes. "There is accommodation for the pair of you in one of the other Founder Houses…I presumed that you wouldn't want to go to the _apartment block_ where…well…I believed that you would be more comfortable in a home akin to your old one."

Aka, it was either live in one of her other houses, or be mere metres from where Sam used to live. And if it was a choice between the pair of them – a carbon copy of the death trap, or the reminder of his life – I'd choose the house any day.

"Thank you," I whisper, but Michael seems incapable of words. He doesn't even look at Amelie, just continues to stare at the floor as though, somehow, Sam would appear from beneath it.

She doesn't continue the housing conversation when she speaks again, her tone more formal and distant, as though the effort of holding herself together is almost too much now. "The funeral will be held in two days time. I will have seats reserved for you in the front row. Your father is unable to make it, Michael, as is your mother, but they both send their deepest sympathies."

Or, more likely, Sam's son is rejoicing that his vampire dad is dead, because now they've no link to vampires, even though his son is a vampire.

Finally, Michael reacts; his head moves in a nodding motion, his hands curling into tiny balls – or as tiny as his hands can scrunch into – but his face is hard, emotionless, as though the crying he did earlier has had no effect on him. I can tell that he misses Sam, but I'm struggling to see who misses him more – Michael or Amelie. Never before did I think that she could love him as deeply as I can see she does now, and that startles me; love is supposed to only run so deep, but I can see that she's been acting with his love as her power for so long now, she doesn't know what to do now that it has ceased to exist.

"See you then, Amelie." Once again, I speak for Michael, knowing he hasn't the ability to speak for himself, and Amelie nods slowly, turning around without another word.

As soon as she's gone from the room, Michael wraps his arms around me, and lets out the tears at the same time as I do. Sam's gone. Sam has died, and we're going to have to move on from that, but I never thought he would be gone. He was who kept me alive when Michael was recovering, the one who taught me things I would have never known before, the only person who could love someone like _Amelie_ and that gave me respect for him because he would never give in. No matter what you threw at him, he didn't give in.

Not until the very last minute, at least.

Neither of us speak for a long time, so long, in fact, it seems as though we've both lost our voices. It seems too strange, too surreal, that everyone I've cared for has died, disappeared, or been left in a state akin to death, in my opinion. There's no point being close to me – the only one who still is has been turned into a _vampire_ to be able to get out of the damned house! It's all my fault.

"It's _not_ your fault, Claire." Michael's voice is low and almost a growl, and I realise that I've been muttering that it's my fault – for how long, I don't know. Even as I try to stop, my lips continue to move to form the words, even if they don't manage to make a sound, and I realise that there's no way that I'm ever going to forgive myself. There is no way. I have destroyed all these people's lives, only through my coming to the damned town!

I refuse to reply to Michael and end up tuning him out as he begins to go on about how none of it is my fault, how we just need to _stick _together, and whatever else he continues to say; I have no interest. It is all my fault.

**~x~**

I see Oliver at Sam's funeral. It shouldn't be a surprise; he's an important vampire, and Sam was important to Amelie (and it's another dead vampire) so it's right that he should be here. But there's something in his face that makes him seem almost _happy_ that Sam is dead, happy that the most honest, good vampire in the world is dead and no longer with us.

I end up shivering slightly, and Michael pulls me into the church faster, fearful that the excessive heat from the fire – no burns on my skin, just indelible marks in my brain – has caused a chill in me, but it hasn't. It's just the fact that Oliver seems so _calm_ at Sam's funeral…and that I know, in my heart, that he's going to want to speak to me at some point.

The words blend together, as Father Joe, and then various other members of the audience stand at the front of the jam-packed room to give their memories of Sam. There's not one single bad word said against him, and the feeling of love that spreads through when Amelie speaks is indescribable, yet nothing stands out. It's just one montage of memories, things that will never bring him back, yet I notice that Oliver says nothing; it's probably to do with how he only came to town last year, so he didn't really know him, but I also think it is to do with the fact that he would have nothing positive to say about him.

"You ok?" Michael asks me as we stand up, preparing to go home, because there is no wake. There would never be a wake for a vampire, even one like Sam, because of the trouble it could cause.

"Fine," I manage to say, even managing to get the smallest smile on my face…until Oliver appears.

"I would like a word with you, Claire," he doesn't bother to greet me, merely gets straight on with what _he_ wants. There's no compassion in his voice, nothing to suggest that he feels sorrow for my near death experience, or even _Sam's death_, and I want to just stake him like Sam was staked, though on purpose this time, and sit down to watch him die. "Tomorrow, of course…today is, naturally, no day for _business_ or discussions, is it?" his lips curl into an approximation of a smile, and it is perhaps the most sinister thing I have ever seen, something that sends further shivers running through me.

"Ok…I'll see you tomorrow, in your office," I reply slowly, barely stopping myself heaving a sigh afterwards.

"Ten o'clock," he calls after me as Michael begins to pull me towards his car, the sudden desperation for us both to leave not _just_ because of Sam and his memory. "Don't be late."

I don't bother to reply, simply throw myself into the passenger seat of the car and slam the door shut, burying my head in my hands to allow all the suppressed tears out. It still isn't real that Sam is dead, that we aren't going to see him again, and that Oliver wants me back at work literally straight away. I don't even know how I'm going to get through the day, especially in this new house that reminds me too much of what happened, yet is better than where we could have been living.

The borrowed dress slips off at the shoulder and I yank it back into place, simultaneously fastening my seat belt as Michael begins to drive away.

"We'll be fine, Claire, _you'll _be fine," he growls, and I get the feeling that he's not just talking about recovering from Sam. "He can't hurt you. He can't. I _know_ he can't."

And then I know that he's talking about Oliver.

* * *

I'd appreciate it if you didn't favourite/alert without reviewing


	27. Chapter 27

_Chapter 27:_

_Ok, so I know this pairing is just straight off creepy – even creepier than AmelieOliver, since Claire is so young – and I've written some things for them, but even I have a limit. This chapter would contain something further, but I couldn't face writing it, so just…either skip it out, or imagine it, if that's the way you want to roll!_

* * *

_Oliver's POV:_

Things have worked perfectly thus far…well, with a few minor adjustments. Whilst the original plan may not always have been wholly successful, the edits have completed the job just as well, and we are completely on target for me to be in power within the next week. Things are heating up now; everything has been leading up to this mission, and now Claire is here. She hasn't been caught in any of the other stages of the plan, and I doubt that she will be caught here before she has executed it exactly; she is much too good at this job for that. If the situation was different, I would offer her a job as an assassin any day. Unfortunately, she being the assassin of the _Founder_ will compel me to put her to death.

Or I could, perhaps, swing her away from death and into a lifetime of work with me, because I feel as though destroying her wouldn't do me any favours. It would leave me like Amelie is now Sam is dead, though perhaps not as bad, as I don't think I love her _that_ much, not like Amelie evidently loved Sam. But whatever my _feelings_, we are close to the end; soon, Amelie will be dead and the town will be _mine_. _I_ will have the most power in the world, will control everything to do with every single vampire that exists, and nothing will stand in my way of getting what I want. My power will be unmatched, stronger and greater than any other who dare try to take it from me – because there _will_ _be_ no other person to attempt to take over Morganville. When I have absolute power, there shall be no more fighting. I will rule. And Amelie will be _dead_.

Everything is ready now. All I require is for Claire to come here tomorrow, for her to be given her mission and for her then to execute it with the same result as all the others: achieved and done so in a manner that means the fallen have no chance of coming back and the number of those who have perished is so crippling that the community may not be able to bounce back.

But, for tonight, I can relax and save all my energy for tomorrow. I shall need it to ensure I bring Claire under my control.

* * *

_Claire's POV:_

Exactly at ten am, I knock on the door to Oliver's office, waiting to hear what I'm to do now, or what to adjust because of events that have happened, and know that I would rather be anywhere but here. Anyplace besides here, with Oliver, in a place which has been filled with so much sorrow, so much _anger_, would be preferable, because all it could do is remind me of the fact that I am owned by a vampire, and I will be for the rest of my life. Only when I die, like Sam, will I be free from Oliver's control, though I wouldn't be surprised if he had managed to find a way to discover what does happen after death, just to be able to control me there.

"Enter." His voice sounds as disinterested as usual, telling me to enter the room of doom. Spending time with this man – _vampire_ – is pure torture most of the time, and then the rest…I don't know. I just don't remember most of the time I spend with him, for some reason; it's strange, and if I had the time or the inclination, I would look into it. For now, though, all I care about is making sure he doesn't give me a death mission or something of the sort, and just allows me to go home to Michael and help him with the guilt over not accepting his Grandfather for his entire life, just because he was a vampire. And now he wants to take it back, it's too late; it's far too late.

Slowly, I push the door open, expecting to see Oliver sitting in his chair, as per usual. Instead, he's standing by the place where there _would_ be a window, if the office hadn't have been designed for the comfort of a vampire owner. There are about three places in town that aren't vampire owned, I think, and they don't make the economy of this town. No, Common Grounds was built for vampires, and in the control of vampires it will remain, I believe.

"Um, hi…" I trail off, not entirely sure what to say; what _do_ you say to the person who owns you? I don't know why I've not had this problem before: do you call someone like _Oliver_ a sir, or are you impolite and call him by his name?

He smiles ever so slightly as the silence grows, and motions for me to take a seat, though I close the door first. Something tells me that if the college students hear _anything_ about vampires, Oliver will blame me for it and Amelie will order my head chopped off, or something as equally barbaric. He may have saved Shane, but that was only because he wanted me to sign with him, and that was the only way. At least, I think so…I can't really remember those events, even though they were only a few weeks ago.

"Well, Claire, I trust that you are feeling better, after your…_ordeal_." Something about his tone scares me, but I try not to let it show; it's better to be distant with Oliver – or any vampire – isn't it? "And that witnessing such a tragic event has not mentally impaired you, or left you unfit for working." This is probably code for, if you're _not _able to work, expect your neck to be ripped apart by fangs in the next fifteen seconds.

"Yes, perfectly well, given the circumstances," I reply, as coolly as I feel I can get away with, moving to take a seat opposite Oliver as I do so. "Um…what do you want me for?"

"Questions, questions," he comments, though not in his usual tone; it's more…_dark_ than usual – dark for Oliver is positively dangerous by normal standards – and as though he's preparing for something bad. "Did anyone ever inform you that it is a sin to be too inquisitive, Claire?" as soon as he has finished talking, I notice a wave of anger pass over his face…but not anger at _me_. No, it is anger at himself, if I can read it correctly, as well as almost guilt and shame. Now, why would _Oliver_ be feeling these things, when all he has done is insult me?

Something tells me that I _really_ don't want to know.

"Um...no?" I answer as I realise he wants something to be said by me, and anything on his face fades away into a mask of neutrality. This is bad. Oliver is _never_ neutral; he's always planning something, and he's probably been planning something for ages, just that the events of late have meant that it would be better to wait. It scares me that I'm owned by him, to be honest, and something tells me it's only going to get worse.

"Very well, Claire," he says, and I don't really understand _why_. To be honest, every vampire born outside of the 1900s haven't been the best people to speak to, since they use vocabulary and phrases I don't understand, and speak at times when I feel isn't appropriate to speak. "Due to Sam's demise, your English class has been cancelled. Your schedule is extensive enough to mean that you need not pick up another class until the autumn of next year, so it shall not make too much of an impact on your life." As he speaks, there's nothing to indicate that he's sad that Sam has died, or even that it has particularly bothered him – he doesn't _care_. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. But I can't help it. I really can't. Maybe it's because I was _there_ when Sam died, maybe it's because I knew Sam, but the fact that Oliver doesn't give a _toss_ surprises me, far more than it ought to.

"So I just do the other things, then?" I confirm and he nods slowly; if this is all he wanted me for, then this is great. It means that I could be out of here in about five minutes, if that, and that would _definitely_ be something to be happy about; being in the same room as Oliver for too long a time gives me the creeps. It's like…almost as if we _do_ stuff, and then I forget. That's impossible, though, so I'll put it down to the fact that he looks remarkably like portraits of Oliver Cromwell.

"Yes, that is what your schooling will entail," he confirms, and as he does so, I shuffle in my seat, expecting to be leaving soon. Instead, he merely levels me off with a glance so deadly that I stop moving instantly, knowing not to push my luck with leaving before he permits me to.

He stands up, and before I can even really register this fact, he has moved to be standing alongside me, his expression completely unreadable – to me, at least. "Stand up," he orders me, and I comply, confusion evidently on my face because he smiles ever so slightly. "Oh, Claire. You never remember, do you?" he murmurs, and it's the scariest thing he's done so far, because he sounds almost as if he _cares_. He almost sounds as though he's sad that I never remember – remember _what_, I want to know – and I should've expected his next move.

His lips press to mine, and it's the most _disgusting_ and petrifying thing, because this is _Oliver_; he's a vampire, someone who looks over fifty, and he could kill me with one look, probably. He's also the person who owns me…and…oh _God_ what if he's like Brandon was with Eve, and he wants to pimp me out?

I try to fight him off, but his hands move to my shoulders and grip them tightly, meaning I can't move away from him; he kisses me harder, and the strangest thing happens: I start to _enjoy_ it. I start to think that it's maybe not so bad, and that makes me try to fight _harder_ to get away, as this shouldn't be happening. Why is he doing this? Just _why_ does he want to kiss me?

And then, just like that, everything snaps.

Just like that, I relinquish control of my body, my brain, and I just kiss him.

* * *

_Oliver's POV_:

Until I am sure she is under my control, I continue to kiss her, and in the meantime, try desperately to distance myself from her. This next act…it isn't for pleasure, no matter how much I want it to be. This is to get her completely, one hundred percent under my control, no matter how it works – who would have thought _this_ would cause my mind control to work so much more? – and that is all.

I need her to be completely under my control, in order for this to work. She cannot be allowed to focus on anything other than the mission at hand, something so dangerous that it makes murdering Sam look like nothing.

Somehow, I realise that she's completely under my control and stop touching her, besides to lift her into one arm and walk into the room hidden at the back of my office; it's meant to just be a storeroom, but since I started this planning, it has been the epicentre of the shafts of paper containing plans on how to get this town from Amelie. Now, however, it has a purpose much more…_human_ and yet also sinister – how many vampire/human relations are there, particularly when the human is under mind control?

And, technically, when you look at it, underage…

As I slam the door, I kiss her harder, with more passion, and she reciprocates it; I've no interest in whether or not this is what she really thinks or if she's just responding to my mood, because this is turning into far too much of a pleasure thing for me.

This is a feeling that doesn't change even as clothes are removed.

_~x~_

"I need you to do something, Claire," I whisper in her ear, pushing back the lock of brown hair that hangs in the way. "It's the most dangerous thing I've asked you to do so far."

She just nods, her eyes fixated on my face, nothing but near adoration in her expression.

"I need you to break into Amelie's house; you can work out the logistics for yourself," I continue, wondering whether I need to give her guidance. There isn't one part of her that isn't under my control; she is completely and utterly mine, a vessel that exists solely to do my bidding. "And then…then you need to kill Amelie. And she _cannot_ have a hope of surviving. Do you understand?"

With the smile on her lips, I know that she does.

Soon, Amelie will be dead.

And I will be the sovereign of Morganville.

* * *

_Honestly, _this_ was the most difficult chapter to write; it was the content, definitely, and how to word things, as I really didn't like writing this._

_The story is more focused on the planning to kill Amelie next chapter, though, as well as a hidden surprise!_

_Please don't favourite or alert without reviewing, and ten reviews to update._


	28. Chapter 28

_Chapter 28:_

_Thanks for all your reviews!_

_(Chapter updated for Project PULL)_

* * *

"Where have you been?" Michael demands of me as soon as I enter the house which seems exactly the same as home, just isn't, about five pm in the evening, before I can even put my bag down. Most of the day has been a blur, particularly between my arriving at Common Grounds and then departing about twenty minutes ago, but he hasn't rang me or anything, so…

"I went to Common Grounds, as you know," I reply, walking past the blond haired boy who is my only 'family' in Morganville, now that Shane and Eve are no longer here. Or even Sam, to be honest. "He wanted to just tell me that because…because of Sam, I don't have to do English any more this year."

Michael looks disbelieving as I tell him this, using his vampire speed to move ahead of me and block my path into the rest of the house. "And that took you all of seven hours, did it?" he points out validly, raising an eyebrow. "You could have at least called to tell me that you hadn't been killed by some rogue vampire—or _any_ vampire."

I shrug ever so slightly and move through the gap between his back and the wall to get into the living area – he could stop me, but he doesn't. This place is identical to our home, yet it lacks the aura that the Glass House has – _had,_ since it no longer exists – and there's nothing here besides the necessities. This isn't a home, but it's the best we've got in the current situation, so we've got to make do.

"I was studying, as there isn't internet here, and I…I didn't think," I reply, my tone relatively neutral. "I'm sorry, Michael, the only time I remembered about ringing you was when I was sitting down to study, but then…then I got out my physics work and tried to forget everything, and so it just didn't sink in that you'd be worried."

His face seems to show a more relaxed expression as I turn around to face him, wondering if my story will be enough to make him forgive me for not being in contact for the past few hours. "I'm sorry for snapping; it's just…now Sam's gone, I realise that I needed to know that there was someone out there to protect me and you," he says softly, reaching out to pull me in for a hug. "And it makes me want to know where you are, just because…with Shane gone, Eve in the hospital and a complete lack of family in the area for us both, we're all each other has, now."

"I get it, Michael, I really do," I reply, wanting to move past him to get to my room and start planning for the events of the next few days. "I just…need time to think, yeah? I mean everything's changing so _quickly_, and everyone I seem to care about just—they're not here anymore, and what makes it worse is that I've only been here a few months."

He nods slowly and lets me go, his eyes never leaving me as I walk up the stairs to the equivalent of my room, as far as I can tell. Even as I shut the door, I can see his gaze directed towards me, and I know that he's going to be listening out for me and what I'm doing – there'll be no sneaking out of the house when he's awake, that's for sure.

I just hope that he's not keeping as good an eye on me all week, otherwise my mission will become impossible.

And Oliver would _not_ be happy.

_~x~_

Three hours later, and I've got the basics of a plan. It was _extremely _hard to get a copy of Morganville's layout – probably because it makes it easier for vampires to get their prey, if humans don't know where they are – but I managed it, and began to rule out all regions where Amelie's home _couldn't_ be. Then it became areas where she really wouldn't have her house – namely in the human housing estates, where violence statistics and drugs seem to be more abundant than actual people – and then areas which I recognised as being completely controlled by Oliver, so Amelie living there was about as likely as finding a cow which doesn't eat grass.

More than just the location, I know exactly how I'll get in past her guards, how I'll distract everyone from realising that there's something wrong with the Founder's security. I know how to get to Amelie, which buttons to press and then—

—then, her life will be over.

It's all sorted…besides for the actual killing. The actual murder of Amelie is still undecided – how do I kill the oldest vampire in the world? Surely it'll take more than killing someone like Michael or one of the police officers, because otherwise she would have perished a _long_ time ago. She'll be able to fight back, again because of the survival to _be_ the eldest vampire of them all, and she's got the natural predatory instincts that make it so much easier for vampires to hunt humans. The only thing I have on my side is that she is weaker because of Sam's death, as I saw at the funeral, and that she hopefully won't be expecting me to kill her – or even be in her home, I suppose.

Other than that, it's going to be a pretty uneven fight. All I can bank on is that these things are enough to incapacitate her, and make her weak enough for me to destroy. I know it will.

After all, when have my plans failed thus far?

_~x~_

Sleep isn't something that comes easy; even at three in the morning, when I can hear that Michael is sleeping, my mind can't focus on anything but the little, nitpicky details about what I'm going to do. Whilst the core of the plan is in place, I still need to sort out little things like transport, possibly an alibi if I don't get caught, and making sure that Michael isn't around as try to leave. I don't want to hurt him, definitely not, and I certainly don't want there to be suspicion from Amelie's supporters that he was part of the plan, because he most certainly isn't. Very little besides this mission makes sense to me – I don't care about anything that I think I _should_ care about – but I know that if Michael goes down for it, then that's wrong. He doesn't deserve to be hurt.

And so I get up out of bed and begin to pace, imagining in my mind the route I'll take down through Morganville towards the Elder's Council building, behind which I'm fairly certain her home is, and then practising with the aiming of the darts to take out her guards. In my mind, I see them all falling on top of one another, and then my climbing over their dead bodies, up the flight of marble stairs…

…I see her kneeling on a cushion in a room which seems almost like a church, her eyes shut and her head bent; she's not facing me, but I know she must be able to hear me. She's muttering something, and her hands are clasped together, and yet she doesn't turn around, even when the hand with the stake in lifts slightly, as I try to find the best position by which to kill her.

In this dream-like world, she turns around at the last moment, her eyes wide and pleading, and yet I can see something that makes it seem like she _wants_ to die, that in a strange and twisted way, I'm doing her a _favour_. Yet no words issue from her lips, and it's with a twisted glee that I plunge the stake through her heart, yanking out the UV light stick to burn her, in order to speed up the death; the stake would kill her, but in this world, it seems more prudent to end her faster, rather than run the risk of her survival.

In this world, I know what I'm doing. And it works.

Feeling more relaxed, I cease pacing and begin to climb back into bed, when I hear the strangest of noises from the garden downstairs. They're just outside my window, though naturally on the ground, and this rouses my interest, due to it being something out of the ordinary, not part of my usual routine.

Cautiously, I make my way downstairs, stopping to grab the emergency "incase of vampire attacks" kit that's in every home which has humans living there, and head into the kitchen to use the back door. The lock on the door creaks and I wince as I struggle to open it, fearing I'll wake up vampire Michael, but it soon slides open, revealing the dark garden beyond. Even the beam of the torch I hastily switch on doesn't reveal anyone – or any_thing_ – that could have been doing something to make that unique sound. Thinking back, it almost sounds as though someone was whispering something.

It almost sounds to me, now, as though someone was whispering my name.

I take tentative steps around the side of the house, my eyes straining to try and see whether there's anything there or not, but there isn't. I can't see anything on the other end of the garden either, and there isn't going to be anyone hiding within the bins, is there? Maybe it was just my imagination…maybe the visualisation of tomorrow stressed me out and had me thinking that Amelie knew what I was imagining…maybe…

"ARGH!" I scream, but the noise is muffled by the presence of a large hand over my mouth, something which dulls the sound to barely anything more than a squeak. Someone _human_ has me, and they cause me to drop the torch, but even as I fight back, they don't falter in pushing me backwards towards the house. This is the world's worst kidnapper, or GBH committer, because they seem to want to _protect _me.

Because I'm facing the same way as him, I can't see who it is, but I'm sure—I'm sure that the smell…I recognise it. I do. I'm sure I do.

The person who is forcing me back inside the house doesn't just stop there; he carries on with me up the stairs, towards my room, and yet this doesn't concern me; I don't want to be concerned by anything other than my mission – now I've seen the disturbance, that's my focus. Anything can happen now, and so long as it doesn't prevent me doing Oliver's bidding, I can't say I'll do anything.

"Claire," the man speaks, and I freeze instantly, even as he locks the door. "It's me."

Shane.

"I…I…why are you _back_?" I hiss, tears streaming down my cheeks near instantly because he's supposed to have left! Oliver got him out! He made sure Shane didn't die, and part of the deal was that Shane left and never came back – but he's here, and that's wrong. "Shane. You were meant to leave so you would be _safe_! Oliver said—"

"Oliver did nothing," he says, but he's lying. I know he is. Oliver…Oliver said that he saved Shane. And there's nothing I can do but believe Oliver. Oliver is always right. He is. "He left me there to burn, but someone else saved me, Claire. Someone…someone who, relative to Oliver, is _good_."

He's wrong. He is. There isn't any way—he's _wrong_. And he's lying and it's…I never imagined seeing him again, especially not with him kidnapping me back to my room, to then talk to me. I never imagined what I would do when I saw him again – run my hands through his hair, kiss him, tell him I missed him and I love him – anything a normal person would do. Instead, all I can think of is Oliver, and how _he_ is right, and that maybe, just maybe, he's better than Shane.

"No, you're wrong!" I whisper shout, throwing my hands into his chest to force him backwards, only succeeding because of the surprise factor. "I…I signed with Oliver to save you. You're _lying!_ Why are you?"

"I'm not lying Claire; I missed you, and I came back to save you," he tells me, his voice low with urgency – but I don't believe him. "It isn't _safe_ now, especially for you, but if you come with me now, I can save you. You're not past redemption yet, Claire, I _promise_."

It's almost as though he knows what I've done – but he can't. He hasn't been here, and I…he's _wrong_. He doesn't know anything, and I can't let him try and trick me. Oliver is right, he is lying, and if he stays here, he could try and scupper my plans.

"Oliver saved you," I whisper, taking another step closer to Shane. "He did. Nobody else did. You're going crazy, Shane; the run's caused you to go loopy. But Oliver can give you something to help you, and then you need to _leave_; it's too dangerous for you!"

"Oliver didn't save me," Shane repeats, and it doesn't affect me this time. "The person doesn't want me to tell you who it was, because they say that you need to figure it out for yourself, to see if you're able to be saved. But you know, Claire; deep in your heart, you know why I'm here and how to fix things. You know you do, Claire, so _tell yourself_!" he sounds so desperate, it almost makes me love him again, almost makes me do what he wants, but I don't. He isn't telling the truth, and that can't be allowed.

On the pretext of wrapping my arms around his neck to kiss him, I take in a piece of the knowledge I learned in one of the classes Oliver made me go to: immobilising Shane by pressing a specific place on his neck, which sends his entire mass to the floor in an instant. He isn't going to be a problem anymore.

It seems almost anti-climatic, for this to be over so quickly, but he isn't anything in the grand scheme of things; today is about killing Amelie, and Shane was just a warm up.

But as I get into bed, I find something: now, I _can_ sleep.

* * *

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	29. Chapter 29

_Chapter 29:_

* * *

_Claire's POV:_

Everything is ready.

It almost seems too early _to_ be ready; after all, it was only two days ago that Oliver gave me my mission, but here I am. Everything is prepared and once I stop by the local shops later on today, I shall have all the equipment that I need in order to complete something that many, _many_ vampires – and humans – have desired for years. By the end of today, Amelie will be dead, and I know Oliver will be a kind, fair ruler, compared to the unfairness that there currently is in Morganville. There can be no return to these dark days, and therefore I cannot fail in my mission.

As I stand up, I click out my back, the twinge from bending over the desk for all of last night beginning to get to me, and my eyes find themselves rolling down onto Shane's unmoving body mass. He can still breathe, otherwise he would be dead, and I can see the rising and falling of his chest even now – he may be paralysed permanently, or just for a few days, but I don't particularly care whether he can ever move again. If he _had_ to come back, he could have waited just another _day_! One more day, and we'd have been free from Amelie, free from her persecution of him – we could have been together, been free from restrictions and the fear that he could be captured and killed at any moment.

We could have been _happy_.

After the brief moment of regret about my actions last night, I move across the room, throwing a few things on the floor in order to cover up the majority of Shane's body – if Michael happened to come in when I'm out of the room, he'd know instantly that someone was there, because of his vampire senses, but anyone else wouldn't. It's sort of silly, but it seems to help my sanity and calm levels as I walk out of the room which is my temporary bedroom, and across into the bathroom. Breathing deeply helps as well, especially when I begin to fret that I've slept in and that the shops will be shut and therefore I won't be able to get the thing I need.

But when I've finished in the shower and ran across the hallway to check the time on my phone and see that it's only eleven in the morning, I relax further; everything is planned, there is nothing that can go wrong, because I know how Amelie is going to die, and the run through in my head hasn't afforded me any further problems, and I will be victorious by the end of the day. She will not be breathing this evening, let me assure you.

"Claire, why are you—?" Michael asks me as I run downstairs, bag in hand and coat on back, his voice coming from the kitchen. As I stop to put my shoes on, he comes out, cup of coffee in one hand, and then deliberately moves to stand in front of me. "Where are you going?" he demands of me, his eyes boring into mine.

"Out," I say, completely unhelpfully, unhappy with him for blocking my way. I don't _want_ to explain where I'm going, and I know that I should be keeping him on side, but I really can't be bothered to. In my bag is the few things I already possess that I can use, incase something happens to _this_ house as well, but it would be rather problematic for me getting to kill Amelie, because everyone'll want to capture me.

He raises an eyebrow at me and levels me off with a glare that could rival Oliver's. "That doesn't say _where_ you're going; in Morganville, there's very little that you could want. So where are you going, Claire, and why will you not _tell_ me?"

"It's none of your business."

"The _hell_ it is!" he yells, the mug in his hand flying across the room to slam into the wall. Upon impact, it fragments into hundreds of pieces, the brown liquid staining the wall, running down the paintwork in rivulets, and yet it doesn't make an impression on me. I don't even flinch. "I am trying to protect you, Claire, and that's important because we're all the other has in this town, now the others have gone. If you don't tell me, well, let's say that you're just not leaving the house."

I shrug, knowing that I could hurt him if I wanted to, to get out of the house, but I _don't_. I've done everything in my power to protect Michael thus far, even in this state of being that makes me think that I _do_ feel something for him even though nothing really makes me feel right now, and I'm not going to change that, just to get to go to the _shops_.

"Fine, I'll go out when _Amelie_ summons you for another meeting," I reply bitterly, turning around and stalking back towards the staircase. It's time for the portal to be summoned to this house, definitely. "See you later, Michael. Or, you know, not."

He begins to speak – saying something about how I've _changed_ (I have) and that he misses me, but that if I don't buck my ideas up, he'll call my parents – and yet I don't hear a word of it; I tune him out as I walk up the carpeted steps, and don't even turn to face him as I open the door into my room.

And after I slam my bedroom door, there's complete and utter silence. Perfect opportunity to put the finishing touches on my plan, isn't it?

I summon a portal and step through it, reappearing in a side street behind the main human shopping street in Morganville. _Now_, it feels as if the plan is almost able to be executed.

* * *

_Oliver's POV:_

It's close.

We're close to the finale, close to the point where Claire kills Amelie, I kill Claire and I emerge victor, the new ruler of Morganville. This lax method of ruling Amelie has, enforcing certain rules and allowing humans away with some things, will no longer be permitted; I will rule with an iron fist…besides for, possibly, my first decision. Whether Claire will die is as yet undecided, for I—I do not believe that I will be able to live with myself if I kill her, for merely acting out my orders. Words cannot describe the twisted state of my mind, the way that I can't comprehend whether or not I _need_ her, or if it's just the desire for her to do what I need her to do; nothing seems to be separated anymore, and it seems that Amelie is in the middle of it.

When there is no more Amelie, I am certain that I will understand what is going on, and everything shall make sense once more. She destroys everything, causes healthy, good things to wilt and crumble into nothing, and she is trying to destroy my mind – and that's without her even realising it.

Closing my eyes, I begin to feel for the residue of Claire's blood in my system, to see if the power that it brought me remains; ever since I tasted it, I've been able to ascertain her mood, and it has been even stronger since last night; I can tell what she feels, not what she is doing or where she is, and yet that can give me an indication as to when she will do it. Part of me is jittery, though I would never admit that to anything other than my deepest subconscious, because I just _need_ Amelie to be dead; with each day that passes, it becomes more and more of a distant dream, one that is merely a _desire_ than an actual possibility.

It is more than just a possibility. With Claire, with her being completely under my control, it _will_ happen; she is strong enough, or at least wilful enough to get under Amelie's defences, and I am more than confident that in the coming days, Amelie shall cease to breathe. Yet with every hour that passes, with every minute that moves forwards in time, I gain another worry, another plausible scenario planting itself in my mind about how Amelie could defeat Claire: the human could be attacked on the way to Amelie's home, she could be apprehended by Amelie if she has increased her security…she could even be walking into a trap. The last one is the most unlikely, yet I begin to consider every angle that could be spun on the situation, and it instils a crisis of confidence I did not have before.

She is calm. As I begin to forget all my worries _myself_, I focus solely on what she is feeling, and how she is, and realise that there is no need to panic about her losing her cool: she is entirely relaxed, almost seeming like she isn't plotting to kill someone, and there is no way that she will be riled up. I can feel that she hasn't even a little doubt about this, and that would worry me, if it wasn't exactly what I wanted to confirm. I have created a killing machine, someone who will follow orders to do whatever I command: she killed Sam, after all, and she even shot her friend. There are no limits to what she can do, I am absolutely certain.

This has filled me with more confidence than I had before, most certainly. Yet there will always be the niggles in the back of my mind that she will run into a situation that she has not anticipated, and then the entire plan will be destroyed.

Not until I can hold Amelie's cold, dead body in my arms, will I feel secure that this will work.

* * *

_Claire's POV:_

By sunset, I have everything I need. Well, I had it a little before sunset, but I had to ensure that everything is in a working condition, and that Michael won't worry where I am; as soon as he went out to the shops or somewhere – I presume, since we didn't speak, but he didn't seem in such a hurry as he would have been if he was looking for me – I ran into the house and poured a sleeping drug into the coffee pot. It was a crude attempt to stop him trying to find me now, when I need to be hidden, and I don't even know if it will have worked on a vampire, but there's no time to test out the effectiveness. I need to get here and kill Amelie _now_, rather than later.

There is no other time. Amelie's life ends now.

I hurry through the not so well lit streets which surround Amelie's home, all of them remarkably empty of vampires. Perhaps Oliver has thought to summon in all of his, I do not know, yet I _do_ see that there is a clear path for me on my way to Amelie's home. As I approach my entry point, I haven't had to run for my life once, and there hasn't even been a sighting of a vampire since I passed Common Grounds.

It's almost too quiet, almost _too_ easy to be able to happen right. But that's just what you get when you've planned well, right?

Aiming for the precise spot on the wall that will distract most of the guards, I throw a petrol bomb at the wall at the end of the garden area, watching as it ignites the arid land and parched grass. The fire spreads quickly, the flames licking up the sides of the outhouse at the end of the lawn area, and soon, an alarm starts wailing. Within another minute, copious numbers of guards are running out of the side of the house – or possibly servants, I don't quite know – and they're all armed with fire hoses and extinguishers, yet don't get closer.

Fire is fatal to vampires. I just hope that it wipes a few of them out.

Making use of this opportunity, I run down the side of the building and to the lower storey bathroom window, and jimmy it open with the lock opener I bought. Here, I then slide in and land in a scarily normal bathroom, with the usual commodities, and thankfully the door is already open. It means that I can slip out through it without having to worry about people being outside – there isn't any noise indicating anyone is coming, and so it seems pretty safe.

Now comes the only tricky part. Whilst I know that Amelie will be upstairs, through some sixth sense, there are many, _many_ rooms around here, and—_fuck_, that's a guard!

I dig around in my bag and take a deep breath, emulating myself in the dream, when I threw the dart straight into the vampire's heart and…yes. It's there. He stumbles and falls to the ground silently, not too far away from a marble staircase. And it's in this moment that I begin to get the feeling that maybe, just maybe, my imagination was actually showing me a premonition of these next few minutes. This guard was here in the dream, I'm sure he was, and, yes, here's the next one.

I dispatch of him with another dart, the body falling halfway on top of the other guard, and then the same happens with the third and final vampire who comes in my direction. _Now_, I feel much more at home, especially with the feeling that I should climb this set of stairs, white marble steps lined with a golden strip at the front, because I've been here before. Or, rather, my mind has been, but that doesn't really matter, does it? It's a lead in an otherwise fruitless situation, and therefore I may as well try it.

Hastily dashing up the stairs, I turn right as I reach the top, barely remembering to slow down for fear that there are other guards lingering, and one hand rests on top of the bag containing more darts, spare stakes, holy water and the stake that will kill Amelie. My preparations are futile, however, because I come across nobody as I hurry towards the little room that featured in my dream, the one with the cross and the kneeling pads and—

—and Amelie.

The door is open and I can see her sitting with her back to me before I even get within twenty metres of the door. Her hair is falling out of a bun, strands of blonde hair hanging down her silk covered back, and all this does is show to me a vulnerability that she shouldn't be showing. It gives me the edge that makes me think that I can do this, that I can win against the oldest vampire in the world, and I begin to move faster and faster. She's so close to me now, she should be able to hear me, I'm sure.

And then I hear something that ensures that the aura of confidence lingers: Amelie is crying.

Slowing down, I hover in the doorway, fumbling around in my bag for the bottle of holy water – to subdue her, if I have to – and the silver stake which will go through her heart. She is crying, and there is no way that a crying woman could attack me, particularly when she is evidently grieving for Sam.

I don't hesitate as I grip the stake in my right hand, not even bothering to be silent in my approach – I presume that I don't make that much noise, but I don't try and be silent like a ninja – because she knows I'm coming. Evidently, she wants the stake through her back, a way to end her suffering without actually committing suicide, for she would have already moved, wouldn't she?

Three metres away…two metres away…I'm less than a metre away when I'm sure that the dream is actually what is going to happen, that I _will_ kill Amelie, when things change. Her head snaps up, and this movement causes me to freeze in place; even though she doesn't adjust her position further, I can't deal with this being different to what I expected. So the stake slips slightly in my hand, and I grind to a halt, able to reach out to kill her if I want to—but I…I can't.

"Hello, Claire," she speaks, and as she does, I realise that there is no chance of me moving. I'm frozen to the spot, unable to move an inch with fear. "I see that you are here to kill me." when I don't answer, she continues, "how very…_quaint_, and possibly even amusing, that it has come down to this: you and me."

And, just like that, I realise that I've lost. She isn't going to let me kill her.

I'm a dead girl walking.

* * *

Please don't favourite or alert without reviewing, on this penultimate chapter!


	30. Chapter 30

_Chapter 30:_

Welcome to the **final** chapter of the first ever Claire/Oliver fic on fanfiction dot net.

* * *

_Claire's POV:_

She takes a step towards me, and I freeze – or, at least I freeze even more than I was already, barely even breathing. Something in her expression screams anger, but there's an even greater part that seems to give me the impression that she's disappointed, that she feels let down by me being here. Did she expect it to be Oliver here to kill her, or was it just the fact that it is a lowly human who is able to get past her guards?

And then, finally, there's sorrow. "Oh Claire," she says, her voice far softer than I would ever have expected when I have arrived to kill her. "You weren't strong enough, were you? I put my trust in the wrong person completely, didn't I? You succumbed to his power, and you did everything I hoped you wouldn't do."

What is she talking about? What does she mean, that I wasn't strong enough to defeat Oliver? I've done nothing wrong, and I've not been controlled by anyone! This is everything I want to do.

"No, Claire, it isn't," she whispers softly, and I realise that I have spoken aloud. "You were never born to try and do this, and you wouldn't have done it if I hadn't…you need to see for yourself. Open your _eyes_, Claire and see!" as she speaks, her eyes bore into mine, their colour changing to an intense silver. She's trying to use her power to scare me, I'm sure she is—

It's as sudden as this. I go from knowing nothing other than my mission and that Oliver _needs_ me, to remembering things I didn't know before: Amelie taking me into her office, blasting me with the same power I've just received a hit of, and…oh god…I remember.

_She inclines her head slowly, to be looking directly into my eyes, and there's something about her that seems scared; she's not sure if this will work, perhaps, or maybe it's because I'm her last resort in a problem she cannot solve._

_"You are going to be under my control until I remove this block in your mind from you," she says. "You will not be aware of it, and nobody will be able to tell. You are to infiltrate Oliver's forces, to become Protected by him, and you are to find out his plans. When you do, you will report your findings to me _immediately,_ and then you will come here—if it arouses suspicion to not do as he asks, pretend that it was impossible. But you will do this for me, Claire, if you are strong enough."_

_And then she lets me go._

I wasn't strong enough.

"I…I…oh _God_!" I whisper, tears streaming down my face, because I remember _everything_ I've done: I've _shot Eve_, I've blown up the City Hall, I've…_killed_ that many children! And, along with all that, I…I burned down the Glass House, and killed Sam along with it. It was _me_ who killed Sam, not an accident – his final injury may have been accidental, but I would have killed him somehow or other, even if the roof hadn't done it for me, and if anything, that's the most sickening act I've done. He is – _was _– the most truly innocent, good man in this entire town…and I destroyed him. I did what Oliver wanted me to do, and ended up committing some of the most truly despicable acts – all because I couldn't control myself enough to fight off his influence.

Thinking back, I almost _enjoyed_ his touch, and I most certainly enjoyed being with him…oh God, it's making me feel sick, I can't believe…I _did_ all that. It's almost as though I was entirely controlled by him, given whatever he said, I did. I even…_Shane!_

"_You_ let Shane out," is the first thing I manage to whisper, the answer coming to me instantly. I don't know why I know this, or even how, but it makes sense; she wouldn't have wanted Shane to go down for something _I_ caused, even if he did kill him, because it would be my 'reward' for fighting whatever control Oliver tried to put on me.

She smiles, and yet it isn't the smile that I remember from my first few days in the Glass House; it's cold, isolated and doesn't reach her eyes. She detests me – I can see it in the way that she holds herself – and there isn't anything I can do about it. I don't blame her, in all honesty. I despise myself, wish I had been strong enough to fight him off…but I wasn't. And I can't take it back.

"Congratulations," she replies, her voice laden with sarcasm and contains an icy undercurrent that seems to reverberate with her power. "You have finally seen what abhorrent things you have done…you have destroyed almost every part of my town…and you have _killed_, for no reason whatsoever, the most important man in my life. You destroyed my reason to live, Claire, and all I wanted you to _do_ was to _tell_ me that Oliver was planning this! I told you to do that! And yet you let yourself be taken in by Oliver, let yourself be controlled and destroyed, until you stand here, before me!" she's lost any composure by the end, and yet I cannot dare to move – if I do, I know she'll kill me. The wild, feral look I see in some vampires' eyes is in hers, right now, and she wants to kill me, for Sam.

I want her to kill me, too.

"I'm so, so, _sorry_!" I blurt out, tears rolling down my cheeks. "I didn't…I hate myself so much, for not being strong enough! All I ever wanted was to be a scientist! I didn't want vampires or politics or anything here, and…and I've failed everyone. I've killed so many people, and I didn't realise it, and if I could kill myself, I would. Amelie, words cannot describe how I feel, and just…please. End it for me; kill me," I'm begging by the end for her to end my life now, here, as painlessly as possible. If not, I fear the cage—

—I fear death by burning.

Her eyes smoulder, and it's not the icy coldness I'm used to seeing; she's not just this cold, isolated figure – she's able to burn when she's angry, something more dangerous and fear-inducing than fire, and it's now that I realise Oliver has underestimated Amelie. He thought that she would be destroyed by Sam's death, which she has, in part. Yet the rest of her wants to live on _for_ Sam, and when I would have thought she would want to find who did it, I suppose she knew it was me all along.

She doesn't answer my request though, and after a few moments, turns away from me with a contemptuous glance. I'm half inclined to stab myself with the stake, when one of her guards zooms forwards from a hidden location and takes it from me, before then grasping my hands behind my back. It isn't tight enough to hurt me, yet it's enough for me to understand that there _is_ no forgiveness for me, and that I'm a prisoner now – and prisoners will be treated as badly as Amelie desires. Prisoners who kill the Founder's lover, well, I suppose they'll be tortured before death, forced to endure hours of pain at her pleasure, before death becomes a godsend.

Whatever happens, I can only pray that it'll be quick and relatively painless.

* * *

_Amelie's POV:_

Did he _really_ think he would be able to get away with it? Did he really consider it prudent to send a girl into his battles against me, tainting her soul, all so he could avoid detection? If he believes that I could ever have considered him not to be a part of the bombing of the City Hall – or even, I suppose, as early as Brandon's death – then he is more of an idiot than I had originally valued him as, for he was always on the top of the list. There is nobody else in Morganville who would dare try and destroy the town and my residents, and I always knew that Oliver would never get his hands dirty – he always utilises the things he possesses, and Claire would always have been part of it.

I could forgive her. She didn't know what she was doing; he controlled her, forced her to do many unforgivable acts…but I cannot. She could have _fought_, fought as Samuel did for many years, and she is strong enough to have fought Oliver off – I wouldn't have set her this mission, if I didn't know it. Yet she succumbed, and not only did she destroy my town physically – again, something I could potentially forgive – but she crushed its spirit, firstly with the children and secondly, most notably, by destroying the one man who I have loved, the only vampire who the town's humans could tolerate.

With Sam's death, the well-being of this town perished also, and that is something that cannot be forgotten. It is something that means I cannot forgive and forget, as I possibly may have managed to do otherwise, citing the fact that she was weak – with Sam's death, I cannot…I cannot allow such a thing to go unpunished. The murderer of my lover _cannot_ be allowed to roam free.

There's a knock at the door, and I find my reverie interrupted with it; evidently, the next stage of the proceedings is to begin, a series of events that I found necessary to implement when it became clear that Claire was unstoppable. I had hoped…I had hoped that the final weapon in my armoury, a piece unknown to either of them, would be enough to stop her, to get her to leave town and never return – if that _had_ happened, I would not have stopped her. I would have allowed her to leave, citing the control she was under as reason enough – and it would have been with Shane.

"Enter," I call, turning away from the corner in which Claire stands, and drifting ever so slightly towards the door.

The entrance to the room is soon filled with the figure of Oliver, his expression unreadable as he walks into the room; there seems to be a level of apprehension tangible on his face, as well as a shock – shock at seeing me alive, I presume.

"Amelie, you wished to see me?" he questions, standing stock still in a position equidistant between myself and the door. There's more than apprehension and shock…now he is closer to me, I can smell it.

_Fear_.

"That is indeed correct, Oliver; I _do_ have a reason to speak with you," I begin in my usual manner, moving to sit down on the chair before me. I do not offer Oliver a seat, and this ought to be his first inclination that something is, indeed, very wrong. No matter our differences, I am _always_ polite and courteous enough to offer him a place on which to seat himself. "And you may not find it exactly to your liking." I offer him a small, secretive smile at this point – warning sign two. He does not often get a smile from me, particularly one so…wicked. "You see…I have recently discovered something that I had believed to be correct for a long while, now, _is_ true. Would you like to give me your opinion on what I could have discovered?" torment, ah, what a beautiful thing it is. He cannot run, and yet even someone as obtuse as Oliver must know that this cannot be a meeting for his promotion.

He gulps, and I find myself relishing his anguish; he is so focused on me, that he has not even recognised that Claire is here. If my reasoning and investigative work is correct, he has fallen in _love_ with her – an emotion I never considered Oliver able to fathom, much less use - and there is no conceivable manner by which he could hide his reaction to seeing her here, in, my home, when he is being arrested. "Ah, I…I cannot say that I have any possibilities in mind, Amelie," he tries to avoid answering it, though we both know exactly what I want. "You have so many desires and can discover almost anything in this town, so how am I to know what the great discovery of the Founder is _this_ time?" there's almost a hint that he doesn't think I know everything he's been behind, these past months, with his mention that I can know _almost_ all of what occurs in my town.

That's his downfall, the moment I decide that I have no desire to continue this charade of skirting around the point.

"Wrong," I say clearly, my voice hard and cold. "You are wrong, Oliver, and you are aware of it. In all honesty, it rather amuses me, how blind you think I am, how unable you believe me to be in order to see past your little games, and discover what you have been doing, I knew that I would have to keep an eye on you…so I enlisted someone, without their knowledge. Turn to your left, Oliver, and discover whose presence in your company would allow me to know whether or not you were to be a problem for me."

It's with a vindictive relish that I watch Oliver turn slowly to his left, his back stiffening as he recognises Claire's scent, yet tries his best to conceal the change in his manner. Gone is the slightly more relaxed stance, the one that assured me he felt he would not be caught out for his actions; in its place is someone who is trying to hide his sudden edge of desperation, for if Claire is here, there must be the correct understanding forming in his mind that he has been discovered, and that his 'secret' planning has never been a secret.

"You…_Claire_," he murmurs her name almost inaudibly, his voice cracking with this one word. Immediately, he turns back to face me, a worried expression on his face that indicates he understands everything without me having to explain – the complete opposite to his accomplice, I may add. "You know," he states simply, watching me as I fold my hands upon one another.

"Naturally, Oliver; did you take me for some sort of sentimental fool, who would allow you to remain in Morganville unsupervised, merely for times _prior_ to your attempted assassination attempt of myself?" I shoot back instantly, my eyes narrowing. "I have known from the beginning about your assassination plans for myself, and even the details of your actions to destroy Morganville, though I, regrettably, did nothing to stop them. I knew that it would lead to this final moment, Oliver, and that is what I have been counting on since _you_ killed my Samuel."

He takes a step backwards as I move to a standing position, ready to attack – or so he thinks. "No, no, it was _her_!" he points his finger in Claire's direction – a girl who has passed out without any vampire noticing, it seems – though it will make no difference.

"You are the one who planned it, Oliver; she was merely your pawn, something _I_ allowed to happen," I continue, deciding to inform him of everything before Claire is awoken to hear her punishment. "You see, I deigned it prudent to utilise everything I had in my control – and that included Claire. Before you even _considered_ to use her, I had placed her under my compulsion, so that she would go about her normal life, yet if you desired her assistance, she would comply. She was supposed to come directly to me and inform me of your plans…yet I fear that the compelled side of her, when under your control, was tainted by feelings for yourself."

The corner of his mouth twitches, something he shouldn't be doing, because he should be _scared_ now, fearful that I shall order his head to be removed, as he did with Charles I. "And that has merely proven that I win once again," he surprises me by saying, "for my compulsion was stronger than your own. And Claire is not yours, is she? She is _mine_."

In response to this, I pick up a book from the table, and throw it to Oliver. "If she is so strongly _yours_, then why is everything she has ever done – under your compulsion, which she was supposed to forget – written in _here_?" my smile is greater than his disappointment, something I take pride in. "When she slumbered, her unconscious mind _wrote_ this, for it was my secondary control in order to gain the information I needed; after I saw the way that you could control her, I became much more secure, given that I had this – written, tangible proof that these events have occurred. You have lost, Oliver; the game is finally over.

"White beats black, after all."

With these words, my guards spring through the door, grabbing Oliver and throwing him to the ground, causing the book to roll in the opposite direction, the spine getting damaged. Books cannot be treated with such contempt – it is not befitting – yet I am more amused by the capture of my enemy; he does not try to escape, but the look on his face as he is bound with silver chains and controlled by three of my strongest men is something that forces a cold, hard laugh from my throat.

"You'll regret this," he promises me, yet I shake my head, suddenly free from the sadistic, yet manic amusement that spread over me.

"No, _you_ will regret both standing against me, and murdering my Samuel," I reply in a cold, carefully detached tone, snapping my fingers for Carter, who is holding Claire, to awaken her. "It is time for sentencing, Oliver. Normally, your presence is required on this side of the panel, yet your actions have rendered you unfit for the job. Therefore, it is down to myself to reveal what shall happen."

I can hear Claire's lips moving, no sound coming out of her throat, and the general idea I get is, _kill me, kill me now, please_, though I could be mistaken. And she is _greatly_ mistaken that I would be kind enough to allow her something as easy as death, or at least instantly. Oliver, on the other hand, seems strangely calm, almost as though he accepts his fate.

"You are both sentenced to reside in the prison," I announce, to the shock of both the prisoners and my guards, yet a smile spreads across my face that silences all murmuring. In many, many years, I have not been as cruel as I am today, and there is only one reason for it: Samuel. He didn't deserve to die the way he did. I will seek revenge and justice for him.

"That's it?" Oliver finds himself questioning me, yet silences himself when I shake my head.

"You shall reside in a four metres by seven metres cell, lined with silver and a ring of fire, to prevent escape attempts. No entertainment facilities shall be provided, and nothing but the barest of nutrition shall be provided for the pair of you. Oh, and I almost forgot the _best_ part of this; you shall be sharing a jail cell, Oliver for the rest of your _darling_ Claire's life, when you shall be offered the chance to leave this Earth in disgrace."

Only when I finish speaking do I understand that they comprehend the gravity of the situation – and Claire is the first to react. Whereas Oliver seems almost happy at this punishment, she is kicking and screaming and begging me to do anything but that, citing that she cannot live with Oliver, that she hates him. This real Claire hates him with all her being – yet the other side of her doesn't; it yearns to be with him, to feel his touch on her skin, feelings that I have for my lover that can never be fulfilled.

"Take them," I order the guards, sitting down in my seat once again as both Oliver and Claire are removed from my sight. It seems too easy, almost. Then again, sometimes, the worst, most heinous crimes are solved in the simplest of measures, with the most creative – yet apparently easy – punishments.

* * *

_Claire's POV:_

I have a fate worse than death.

At least death would mean that I didn't have to spend the rest of my human life with Oliver – and with the cruelness of Amelie, I can definitely see her turning me into a vampire to prolong my suffering – because I don't know if I can deal with this. I hate him, despise him for destroying my life, even though it seems that he almost…he almost seemed _attractive_ to me, when he controlled me. Thinking back, every part of me was subjective to his will, and therefore whatever he wanted, went.

He wanted me, so I wanted him.

One of Amelie's guards, someone I don't think I've ever seen before, is dragging me down corridors I don't recognise, not hurting me but not being exactly gentle, either. Oliver is behind me, actually being dragged rather than just accepting it, and I feel a wave of disgust for the man, wondering why power could be as important to him as a human's life and freedom. Why did he have to desire more power than he deserved?

Why did he have to use _me_ to try and get said power?

The guard takes me through this door that seems to shimmer slightly – a portal, I can tell – and on the other side is a jail; it's chillier than the house, and I can't help but shiver as we advance towards what is literally a home within a cell. I can see beds in one corner, a partition to create a new room that must be the bathroom, and a small seating area with two chairs and a table. That's it. This is where I have to live out the rest of my life – a prison cell in a deathly quiet area, the front of the area covered in silver coated bars that show that it has been designed for vampire captivity, as well as possibly human.

"In you go," he says to me, pushing me through so hard that I stumble right to the far side of the cell, falling onto the lower of the two bunks. I can't help but cry out, more out of shock than anything else, yet there is no reaction from my captor, who immediately goes to help the other two by throwing Oliver through the cell door.

As soon as the grey haired vampire is in the cell, the opening closes to become one unending wall of bars, the opening where the door swings invisible to my eyes. With this, the three servants of Amelie turn back towards the door they came through, ignoring the words that I find issuing from my lips without being consciously aware of it – _"please take me back; I didn't mean it; please, please, _please, _you can't leave me here, I beg you!"_

Nothing works. I didn't ever expect it to, but when the portal closes and the only light is from an weak artificial source – one single light bulb, hanging above our heads, as well as a window on the wall furthest from me now, though the blinds are closed. I won't be able to have it open, I know, but it…the fact that the sun is out there and I can't ever have it again…it drives me wild.

Almost without me realising it, the tears begin to stream down my face, and I slide from the bunk to the stone floor, not even caring about the cold. _This_ is my home, this…this disgusting place, completely devoid of happiness, with the most horrendous vampire there is, and I can't do anything about it. I can't go back to the days that centred around happiness, with me and Eve and Michael and Shane, days that were infrequent and barely had time to occur, yet mean everything to me, now.

"Don't cry, Claire," I hear Oliver saying to me, and I suddenly become aware of the fact that he's sitting right next to me. _Oliver_, the most uncaring vampire of them all, in my opinion, is sitting next to me, sounding genuinely concerned that I'm crying. "It doesn't change anything…we're still in this together, after all."

And that angers me enough to wipe the tears from my eyes and get to my feet, turning back around to look at him as though he's absolutely stupid. "Are you on the vampire equivalent of crack, or something?" I demand of him. "I _hate_ you! I hated you before your little hocus-pocus with my mind, and I despise you now…because it's you who put me here, not Amelie or anyone! Your actions…and what you made me do…they're why I'm here now. So don't you_ dare_ act as if you care about me and my feelings."

He moves to a standing position himself, his eyes almost seeming to give me the impression that he is hurt by my words. "But…but I thought that we had something, Claire, something that was greater than power or victory," he whispers, and my only feeling is revulsion. He thinks I am attracted to him as he is to me, and that now we are together in this cell, I will agree to be with him, just to _be_ with someone.

"Let me put this _very_ clearly." I find myself yelling, though it most certainly isn't on purpose, "if you ever come near me in that sort of manner, I will…I will do something to try and kill you, and I'll definitely have the window open twenty four seven. Do you understand? I will do _anything_ to get—" and that's when it hits me, midway through a sentence, that I won't ever be leaving here, and yet there is a vampire.

A vampire who doesn't seem to be getting much blood, it will seem, and I bet part of the plotting of that is so that Oliver bites me for his nutrition – something it seems that he won't be concerned about, given that I can recall all those…all those _bites_, the ones that occurred after he kissed me, and made me his.

"Yes?" he questions, evidently not caring about the death threats and more about the fact that I stopped in the middle of a sentence.

"You can do it," I say, my voice suddenly a whisper. "You can kill me, end this suffering for me now. You can do it! It's not like you've ever had an issue with killing people; this ends my suffering, and means yours is less as well! Do it. Kill me. Please," I plead with him, but I can tell instantly that it isn't enough. He isn't ever going to kill me, even to end this punishment – even if he loves me. Evidently, he doesn't 'love me' enough to let me die.

"No, I can't," he replies, his voice filled with anguish as he moves across the room to place his hands on the silver bars; there's a sizzling noise as the flesh begins to burn, but he seems to be doing it on purpose – and I don't know why. "There isn't a chance that I can do that, Claire. I'm sorry. Truly, I am."

He isn't. He doesn't want me to die, because he doesn't want to be alone, so even when he's been caught out for trying to take the town, he is unable to be kind and helpful.

There isn't anything for me to do but sit down and cry until the tears run dry, because what else am I to do? I despise the man, and yet I cannot die, and even as he makes himself more and more thirsty by causing injury to his flesh, he seems able to resist my blood.

He won't help me.

**~x~**

After the sun sets, Oliver opens the blind, and I stare out at the moon, but it doesn't comfort me. It's something that I used to love to see, but Morganville has tainted that for me.

Already, I feel myself turning into nothing more than a shadow, someone forgotten and undesired, besides by those whose attentions I do not desire. Oliver has attempted to begin conversations with me, yet I have resisted the urge to speak, merely continuing to stare at the wall and recite the periodic table in my head.

And then, to interrupt the mundane nature of prison life, there's a noise at the cell wall: Amelie. She's here.

Her expression is much like the one that was on her face the last time I saw her, yet there's also an element of sorrow, as though she seems apologetic for her decision. Perhaps…perhaps she's here to remove me, to allow me to live out my punishment – something I will accept, if this is the case – completely on the opposite end of the building.

"I am here to inform you of two things," Amelie says, her eyes focused on me. I get the feeling that she's here to speak to me, so I stand up from the bunk and walk across to the bars, my eyes locked into hers, trying to pass across the message, _"I'm sorry, for everything."_ I don't know if it works. "Firstly, Mr Collins and Mr…_Michael_ have made a full recovery, though I presume that there was never the intention to hurt them—"

"Thank God," I whisper, interrupting Amelie because it's a relief to know that they're safe. "Um, sorry," I add on the end, as her face seems to portray a certain anger at her being interrupted.

"Secondly," she continues, "Miss Rosser has returned to consciousness; it transpires that the doctors did not inform you that they had put her into a chemical coma in order to aid her healing. She will make a recovery, though it may not return her to her former glory."

"I…thank you," I whisper, realising this is what I need. Now that my friends are definitely safe, I know that I didn't harm everything that I could have. There is part of my life that exists, still, and perhaps they'll even be allowed to visit—no, wait, I forgot. I almost killed Eve, knocked Shane out and was a bitch to Michael before then drugging him. They'll all hate me, even if they're aware I was controlled.

She smiles, and it's slightly less vindictive and sinister than earlier – but not much. There's an element of it being rueful, of her almost feeling sorry for me. "And I have a gift for you, Claire." she speaks as if I have not spoken whatsoever, yet her hand reaches into her pocket for a handkerchief bound object.

I take it from her through the bars and unwrap it, already having an idea in my mind about what to do with it. On the other side of the room, I can sense Oliver becoming more alert, as though he has only just realised Amelie's presence, and he can tell what the object is, I'm certain of it. He begins to speak, yet Amelie's gaze turns to him, and it's one that is filled with such cold, incomparable fury, that he soon silences himself.

The object: a silver knife, sharper than anything I have ever seen before, deadly in even my inexperienced hands…or perhaps not so inexperienced. I have killed hundreds.

Amelie's eyes lock onto mine, and they're filled with sadness now, something that I never expected. "You could have been great for this town," she says softly, "there are things in motion that require a brain such as yours…yet this is not to be. This knife is a _gift_, Claire, and I…I trust that you will do with it what you want. Goodbye."

Her hand reaches out to touch my face softly before she's gone, whirling away into the darkness; one second she is with me, the next she has gone.

And she's left me a knife.

I look over at Oliver, who seems studiously ignoring me and the object in my possession, and sigh, wondering whether or not I do it.

_What do I do_?

* * *

**AN2:** congratulations! You've made it to the end of Devil's Lair!

So, this was a bit of a shock, or not?

The ending is designed for you to decide: does she kill herself? Does she kill Oliver, then herself, or just Oliver? Or does she not use it?

[I have my ending, yet you all may consider it differently.]

I'd appreciate it if you didn't favourite without reviewing, on this final chapter. Thanks


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